How Far is Eden?
by Yma
Summary: The story of Knives' time with Vash. Can he be redeemed? Will he be redeemed? Should he be redeemed? What makes these two brothers who they are? Said by some to be one of the Best Trigun fics ever! Complete! Please RnR!
1. Default Chapter

How far is Eden?

By Yma

Over 100 years ago…

            The desert stretches out in front of them, behind them, around them. A blazing carpet of sand and rocks and wind and dust. Heat soaks the air, the suns above showing no mercy, no compassion; they paint the world in ruddy red and sickly yellow. Water exists, though precious little. He is good at finding it, however, as is his brother. They wander through the eternal sands, periodically stopping off at any oasis they find, before moving on again. They've not been long upon this world, these two children, who are even younger than they look, yet already their legs ache, their skin burns, and their lips crack.

            'Knives,' asks one, his voice unsure, a little whiney, 'where are we going?'

            'Eden,' replies the other, after giving it a few moments thought, his voice is full of authority.

            'How far is Eden?' asks the first boy, something in his tone carries a streak of bitterness, a tinge of incredulity. 

            Young Knives ponders the question, considering it from every angle. How far is it to Eden? What time, what distance, what road must be taken to that Promised Land? The land of Love and Peace.

            He does not answer his brother that day. Or for many, many days after it.

            It will be a question that plagues him for the span of a century.

Truck Lode of notes:

            Sorry about these but they're probably necessary. I'll mention them all now so as to get them out of the way. 

            1: Disclaimer: Trigun isn't mine; I'm just borrowing it to play with for a bit, no harm in that, right? This disclaimer applies not only to this chapter, but to all those following it. Understand? Good. Now we've got that sorted…

            2: What's this about? Well, yes, it's another Knives story, but hopefully it's one that focuses more on a psychological angle than a romantic and/or action angle. I hope this makes it original enough that people will be interested… Some of the chapters may be a little short, but they will get longer. I promise.

            3: I'm badly Dyslexic and I have no Beta reader. The result of this is that, whilst I DO use a spell checker and I DO re-read my work, I slip up too. If you notice any consistent spelling errors, let me know. Thank you. On that same line, I'm a little unsure of what the possessive of Knives is, (i.e. Knives's book vs. Knives' book) I've decided on the latter option and shall follow it throughout the story. Apologies if it's incorrect, but it seemed to be what my creative writing lecturer thought was right.

            4: All other notes shall be placed at the bottom of the page. Readers who leave reasonable reviews shall also be replied in this area. One warning, however, my replies will presume you've read the chapter they're in. I.e. A review to chapter 5 will be at the bottom of chapter 6 and will presume you've read chapter 6. Just warning you against spoilers. As ever all reviews are beloved, welcome, and begged for. If I get no reviews I will dump this story, so if you read and like, PLEASE let me know!

            5: Like the spelling, let me know of any cannon problems with this story, e.g. if I've spelt GunSmoke wrong and so forth, I'll do what I can to amend it in later chapters.

            6: Oh, and this is written in present tense. I don't know why, I just wanted to give it a go. Sorry if it bothers.

            7: This story is PG13, though there may be a couple of times when it does push slightly onto the R section, though not by much. If this bothers anyone I'll happily give warning when those sections are coming up. There's some swearing, but nothing worse than is on the actual show itself I don't think.

            Thank you very much and I hope you enjoy the story.


	2. Day 1

Day 1

            Blackness. 

            Dark. 

            So wonderfully, blessedly dark. He's not felt it's like for an age, it seems. He basks in it, dives in it, relishes the escape from the light and the pain.

            Pain.

            He was never good with pain, he ran from it, ran from all sensation, searching for the darkness or, better still, for Eden. 

            Now he feels it tickle upon his senses, sees it like sunlight from beneath the cool depths of watery darkness. He fights against it, the dreadful, buoyant tug of traitorous oxygen in his lungs, the primal need to survive, the need to feel, to live, to breathe. 

            He surfaces from the darkness, gasping in the pain, the light from two, green-blue suns ravaging his body. 

            Two aqua suns.

            His brother.

            Damn, he wishes he were dead. 

            He tries to speak, to spit, to scream but the darkness comes up to him again, beckoning, promising, welcoming.

            He gratefully returns.

To be continued… please RnR!


	3. Day 3

Day 3

            He's awake again and this time it's for good. He wishes it weren't so. 

            The agony of the gunshot wounds pulses through his body, the crude structure of the building around him, a human house, mocks him and hateful, shameful whispers echo in his brain. 

            He failed and this is nothing more than he deserves. 

            No… no, this is more than he deserves. He could at least have been granted death, which would have held some measure of comfort, some ounce of hope; this… this is just torment.

            The room, his prison, it nothing spectacular. Its walls are of mettle reinforced stone, several steel shelves line them. These shelves are packed with various medical paraphernalia. Some of which looks like it was salvaged from a SEEDS ship, but mostly it is the crude implements which pass as healer's aids on GunSmoke. 

            There is one narrow window, set high in the pale wall. He can see nothing through it except sunlight, which lights the room with a dull, golden glow. There are lamps there, too, for when night sets in.

            His bed is a simple affair, comfortable enough, he supposes, but nothing spectacular. By it is a simple wooden chair with a worn, flat cushion upon it. Nothing much else, aside perhaps from the cracked and dusty ceiling, is worthy of note.

            He hasn't been awake long, and all of that time he has been alone. Yet the pain, the bandages keep him still, keep him tied. 

            Well, what else could he have expected, after all? 

            He hears the door opening, his sharp ears catching a familiar, heavy footfall. He wishes he could close his eyes, dive back into the cool darkness, or even fake it, lie. But he's never been able to really lie to his brother, so he accepts the inevitable. He stares at Vash coldly as he enters the sparse room, willing his blue eyes to pierce bullet holes into his body, willing him to feel some of the pain he's caused. 

            Vash looks up, obviously not expecting his patient to be awake, let alone glaring.

            And he grins.

            Damn him!

            Damn him!

            How dare he smile! How dare he allow his face, his dreadful, mobile face to do that! To look so young again, so child-like. For a moment, for a terrible, heart rending moment things are as they were before, on the SEEDS ship and they are young again. Young and bright, full of stupidity and naivety and innocence. 

            It's a lie, of course, a soft, sweet lie, with thorns hidden comforting within its deceptively beautiful petals. 

            Even Vash must know that.

            His grin fades quickly and he is himself again, as he should be, serious, solemn, and thoughtful. 

            It's like watching someone put on a mask, hiding the sun with the moon. 

            'You're awake,' he says, and moves over. 

            Knives does not reply. He turns away, staring resolutely at the wall.

            His dear brother makes no comment; he busies himself with bandages, salves, stitches and water. His hands moving with neat precision over Knives body, tending it as he would his own, as it very nearly is. Or once was, anyway.

            Knives watches his shadow upon the wall. He's not wearing that coat, he notices. He's stripped down to body armour, and there is no gun by his side.

            Fool.

            'Do you want to talk?' he asks at last, finishing his final ministrations.

            Knives does not satisfy him with an answer.

            'I thought not, I'll be back later.'

            He leaves then, not even sparing Knives a passing thought. 

            Knives is alone again. 

            As he always is.

Reader Replies:

Humm… only one of you… well I wasn't expecting this story to be very popular, at least not at first.

So…

Hi Silverarm! Well, I'm sorry to you (and everyone else) that this has started off so slow, I need to build the atmosphere first. I hope this lives up to your expectations. The following chapters should be a bit longer, but there will be some pretty short ones too. Tell me, do you want to have more than one chapter (if the chapter(s) are short, or just one chapter at a time? Regardless of length? There are some much longer chapters coming up, promise, just hold on.

Also, PLEASE keep reviewing, I want at least one review between each chapter, if only so that I know someone is actually READING this. If I don't get a review per chapter (or per posting session) I'll quit with the story? OK? 

So please, if you're reading this, drop a review! 

See you next time! 


	4. Day 10

Day 10

            He does not mind being alone, though the silence bothers him a little. His own fault.  Once he would not have minded at all, but he got too close to his human servitors, to Legato. He has become used to having someone to talk to, if only in his head. Now there is no Legato, no Vash, nothing. 

            But he's done this before; he won't let it bother him, and certainly won't let it show that it's bothering him.

            The pain does irk him, however, and he cannot help but let that show. A few days ago he tried to escape, tried to move out of bed. A catastrophe that irritated his wounds, tore them, ripped the delicate web of healing flesh that was just starting to reappear. That was agony indescribable.

            He screamed then, the first sounds he has made since waking up. Vash came to him, of course, settled him back amongst plush pillows and constricting blankets.            He stripped the soiled bandages away, cleaned up the fresh blood, re-stitched any torn wounds, applied salves, re-bandaged what was left then, seeing that Knives was still panting and sobbing in agony, fed him a potion which banished the pain, but dissolved his mind.

            For a while the days passed like phantoms, the world became a blurry, indistinct place of flittering shadows and dancing lights. The crystalline icebergs of his thoughts were melted into muddy slush, but the pain was gone, at least.

            Being alone, being alive was almost tolerable. 

            Almost.

            When at last the effects of the drug died away, he nearly asks his brother for more, nearly begs to return to the drug induced stupor. He does not, though. For one thing he knows Vash would never accede. For another he will not stoop so low.

            He still has his pride.

Reader Replies:

To Anon: Sorry about that guys. I made a mistake and downloaded the wrong document. My bad! It's all fixed now. Please keep reviewing! 

The chapters should start getting longer from now on, I'm sorry they've been so short thus far, but it makes sense as Knives, for the most part, is either sleeping and/or sulking all the time. 

Thank you for being so patient, anyway. More plot ahoy! 


	5. Day 30

Day 30

            Today he says his first words. 

            In all fairness, it was not him who broke first but Vash. He had been chatting away to, or rather _at_ Knives for several days, obviously unable to stand the silence any longer. 

            So he nattered on about this and that, inconsequential matters, the weather, the taste of donuts, favourite foods, the expense of salmon sandwiches, and the small town outside the building they now inhabited. He seldom gave names; of course, he 

has enough wit for that, but his incessant rambling grated and frayed Knives' nerves.

            It was sickening, hearing him talk about the spiders, about the humans.   Perhaps he was showing off, rubbing salt into his wounds as it were. Relishing his victory. To Knives it seems as if he is just wallowing in his own dung, showing how much he has debased himself by conversing, by living with the humans. A king amongst thieves and murderers. 

            'Shut up,' he whispers, his voice parched and rusty with disuse, 'please, finish it.'

            Vash blinks and grins that idiotic, stupid grin of his, 'decided to talk at last? Good.'

            'No, finish it. End this… please.'

            That last word took a lot of effort to say, but it needed to be said. He just wants peace at last, his brother had tended to him, after all, had given him some modicum of comfort. Surely there must be something in there, a sliver, a slice of goodness, or purity. The humans could not have sullied him completely, could they? Some part of him must still be his brother?

            'What do you mean, Knives?' asks Vash, his face bearing that absurd puzzled look, the mask of an idiot. Well, mostly a mask, anyway.

            'End it,' spits Knives, barely able to get the words past grated teeth and wounded pride, 'kill me.'

            Vash's face turns grim, 'I'm sorry, Knives. But you know I disapprove of suicide, and I certainly won't help you.' 

            'Do you hate me that much?'

            'No, of course not.'

            'Then end it. Finish it! Show me some small mercy you idiot!'

            Vash shakes his head, 'no.'

            'You must truly hate me then, not do to this for me.'

            'I don't hate anyone; I don't hate you, even if you hate me. Do you hate me, Knives?'

            'Less than you do, it seems.'

            'Then you understand.'

            'No, I don't. I could never understand you. How long will you keep me like this?'

            Vash smiles coyly, 'how far is Eden?' he asks. 

            And Knives screams, his world turning red.

            He pays no heed to anything other than his anger, the inferno of his rage coursing through his veins, its heat bringing some, strange comfort. He bucks and writhes on the bed, spitting, screaming yelling innumerable, incomprehensible oaths and curses. Yelling at the one who has caused this torment, at Vash, at his own brother.

            For his part, Vash remains silent. He merely sits, watching the wild, insane wailing of Knives, making sure he does not hurt himself too much, but making no attempt to intervene.

            Through the crimson haze, Knives sees Vash cry, his tears the only source of cooling moisture in the conflagration of soul destroying rage. 

Reader's Replies.

Hi guys! 5 reviews now, Whoo! (:

Me is happy…

Anon: Thanks for pointing the problem out, it was a dumb mistake and not one I'll make again (hopefully.) If you're interested the wrong chapter was from a fic of mine called Being Normal in X-men Evo fanfiction. It's in my profile if you want to read it. It shouldn't have been here anyway, and thanks for being to kind as to point it out. Thanks for the complement too.

Silverarm: Thank you again! Oh, I can't tell you how good it is to have *someone* reviewing, so please don't stop. As I mentioned, as long as I have at least one person reviewing for each chapter, I'll continue posting, but I would like SOMEONE to review, or I won't even know if it's being read. I hope more people review this anyway… I know the chapters are short at the moment (this is the longest so far) but it does actually get better… or I think it does anyway, but then again I'm the writer, so I'm biased. But thanks for your reviews and noticing the detail and all, one of the reasons for the shortness is there's not much for Knives to actually *do* at the moment, but as he heals that will change. 

J: Ah, a nice, short log in name, gotta love it. Thank you for the kind words. I'm only really just started in Trigun Fanfic and I'm still a little bit unsure about my skill there in. So your encouragement is greatly valued, thanks!

Alright, the next chapter is going to be pretty short, if you guys want I can post two next update session. Up to you. 

Thank you all! See you next time and PLEASE review! 


	6. Day 60

Day 60

The fire seemed to burn away everything for a while, until it burns itself out, leaving nothing but cold ashes.

            He has done nothing much these past few days, he just lies there, silent, obeying his brother's every command with the dull apathy that comes with utter despair.

            He doesn't even have the strength to eat any more. 

            His brother would have been made to near force feed him, if it hadn't been that his resistance to hunger and first were even weaker than his resistance against pain. His stomach and throat rebelled against his mind and will, traitorously opening and allowing his brother to push down nourishment and moisture. Of what type it hardly mattered, or matters.

            For the record, though, this night Vash is feeding him rice. He slips it into his brother's mouth, waiting until it is swallowed, before putting more upon the spoon and repeating the slow process. Once Knives had felt indignant at having to be hand fed; now he feels nothing at all.

            It's almost a relief.

            Today Vash is dressed differently, Knives notices dully. Though not precisely a slob, his brother has never cared all that much for clothing. On most days he has worn dungarees or jeans, finished off with a simple, loose white shirt or T-shirt. This day his trousers are tailored; his shirt is a dark blue-black. He is looking surprisingly smart, and oddly out of place, oddly… wrong. It is as if something is missing.

            'What happened to your coat?' asks Knives, and blinks in shock. 

            Where had that come from? He hadn't spoken for thirty days, hadn't had the volition or need to, hadn't been bothered. Why would curiosity about a coat, a stupid coat, bother him now?

            Vash shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Part of him is probably overjoyed that his brother had spoken, but he is fighting not to show it, anxious not to break this tentative moment.

            'I didn't need it any more,' he explains, 'I left it behind.'

            'Why?'

            'It's only a coat.'

            Knives frowns, the statement bothering him for reasons he couldn't quite define. The coat… the coat had been part of Vash, or Vash the Stampede, anyway. Whilst wearing it he had been so many things, or it had been so many things to those around him. He'd been the mysterious stranger, covered from head to toe. He'd been the saint, his coat a robe of benediction, or wisdom. He'd been the joker, dancing in a ridiculous, clownish costume; he'd been the killer, the destroyer garbed in red, the colour of violence and blood. And he'd been the knight, the saviour, the paladin in scarlet, the colour of courage and determination. Rem's favourite colour.

            In that coat Vash had been so many things but, Knives wondered, had he ever been himself?

            'It was a good coat,' he says at last, the silence and his own curiosity becoming too much for him.

            'It was useful,' agrees Vash, 'but it was heavy, and hot, and sometimes kinda cloying. I'm glad to be rid of it, really'

            The final spoon full of rice slips in and out of Knives' mouth. 

            'Tell you what,' says Vash suddenly, 'if you want, I'll get you one like it, for when you're well again.'

            Knives finds just enough strength and impetuous to snort derisively before falling back onto the bed and turning his eyes away from Vash, up to the ceiling.

            Vash stays around a little longer, but after a while he leaves, closing the door behind him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Review Replies:

Silverarm: Yeah, it was fun to do a really angry Knives, Vash's words will have a big effect in the story and lead to some realization, though it won't happen all at once, not by a long shot. From now on the chapters should be getting better and longer. Yay! Please keep reviewing! 

And that goes for all you guys reading this too! 


	7. Day 72

Day 72

            It would have been better if he were dead.

            He knows that even is brother is beginning to think that now. 

            Knives hardly eats, hardly drinks, he sleeps constantly, waking up only for the changing of bandages, baths, and other necessities. He lies still upon the bed, his skin turning white-grey, his flesh sticking to his bones, his delicate condition made all the worse, a living corpse. A trapped butterfly starving in the spider's web.

            It's affecting his brother, too. Once Vash's movements were quick, full of energy and precision, he came into the room often and regularly, he talked to his brother, even smiled at him. Now, though, he is slower, lazier. His visits come later, infrequently; he does not talk at all. It's as though the malaise dragging Knives down is affecting Vash, destroying both twins.

            One night, when Vash has barely managed to get more than a sip of water and a spoonful of broth between his sibling's throat, he begins to cry.

            From dark rimmed, half closed eyes Knives watches Vash, not entirely unaffected by his brothers tears.

            'Why?' he rasps, his husky voice breaking the silence of the living tomb, 'why are you doing this? Just let me go, Vash. Let me die.'

            Vash's head snaps up, he looks at his brother not with understanding, or with love, but with something entirely unexpected.

            It is something close to rage.

            'You're pathetic,' he hisses, 'you claim that you're so much better than humans, that _we're_ so much better, but really you're nothing. At least humans try to live, hell, that's what screws them up so much sometimes. They survive, not matter what the odds, no matter what the cost. Look at you, one defeat, one humiliation and you sulk and pout and just give up!' 

            Vash's voice is a near scream now, and Knives gapes in shock. In his life he has hardly ever seen his brother this angry.

            'You claim I'm the childish one,' rants Vash, seemingly oblivious of Knives' stunned expression, 'at least I don't sulk and give up when things don't go my way! You're a looser, Knives, a pitiful, sad looser. You're not a butterfly, you're not even a spider you're… you're… you're a maggot!'

            For the first time in many weeks, Knives struggles against the pain, his body juddering, his face twisting into a mask of rage which more than equalled his brother's.

            'Take that back!' he shrieks, his voice high and shrill, 'take that back or I swear I'll tear you apart!'

            'And you're going to do that how, exactly?'

            'I… Oh Vash,' snarls Knives, venom dripping from every word, 'when I recover from these bullet holes, when I get out of this bed, I swear what I'll do to you will make ultimate suffering will seem like a benediction!'

            'When you get better?'

            'Damn right, bastard!'

            'Ah good,' Vash says, his face suddenly, miraculously splitting into a grin, 'you'd better finish off this rice then. Can't show me ultimate suffering when you're cooped up in bed, can you?'

            He proffers the spoon, once again heaped with broth. Knives accepts it, swallowing it down eagerly and nodding for more. He gulps down the entire bowl, and a glass of water besides, anything to spit in the Vash's extremely happy face, the ridiculous grin of his grinding against Knives' pride.

            When all the food is gone Vash goes out of the room to fetch more, and it is only when he is alone does Knives realize what he has allowed to happen.

            His brother has won once again; he's rekindled the spark of life, or the spark of anger. He's made him want to live again, if only so that he can end Vash's own life.

            For a brief, spiteful moment Knives tries to smother the fire, but soon realizes that it is impossible. He's too angry, and that anger, that wounded pride, will drive him onwards, force him to live. 

            'Damn, Vash, but you are a cunning bastard,' he mutters, and despite himself, smiles.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Reader Replies:

Sorry I'm so late posting this chapter. The computers round here went down for a bit, then I couldn't actually READ the reviews you guys posted so I didn't want to put in another chapter where I couldn't actually reply… augh! Very annoying.

Well, I hope this last part was alright. It's wonderful to see so many people reviewing, I've got a wonderful warm feeling in my heart now! Thanks guys! If I've missed someone out then I'm sorry. 

Silverarm: Glad I amused you! Thanks for the Knives complement, BTW, I tried very hard in this fic to keep his progression… subtle. I only hope it works. I don't want to have him screaming 'death to the spiders!' in one chapter and, in the next, spouting love and peace. 

Aoi: Thanks very much for reviewing! I'm glad the point of view is working for you. I'm not really sure why I wrote it like this, to be honest. I knew I wanted to tell it from Knives point of view because he's going to be the one undergoing psychological change, thus it's his mind we want to look into, but why I chose present tense to do this I honestly don't know. Oooh, can you direct me to that picture? Please? Pretty please? I really want to see it!

Sek: Another person who's having fun with this! Excellent! Interaction if fun, I like interaction, and I do like to believe that I'm nothing if not original… 

Angelstryke: Ooooh, I motivated you? Go me! Yeah, the coat thing is very significant, I think. I also think it signified that he was finally moving out of Rem's shadow, making his own destiny as it were. Very significant, if a bit sad… it was such a nice coat… I'm very happy that I'm doing OK with Knives' character; he's such a touch one to write! I'm never sure if I'm doing him right or not. On the one hand he's… cold, but on the other he's insanely passionate. It's a difficult combination and I'm relieved it's working well. And yes, I'll keep updating… if you keep reviewing!


	8. Day 90

WARNING! READ THIS NOW!

THIS CHAPTER IS ***R*** RATED! 

OK, here's the thing. Most of this story is PG-13, there's nothing much in here that you won't get in the Anime. However, within this chapter is ONE utterance which is a little… harder. Not too bad, but still leaning towards the R rating. So, if you are under 13 and/or of a delicate nature, you can do one of the following:

1: Skip this chapter and E-mail me for a summery. I'll send it to you. 

2: Read this chapter, but skip the sentence beginning with *. 

3: Read this chapter, but don't blame me if you get offended by the utterance in question. 

All I'm doing is covering my butt, I'm giving you due warning.

Thanks and I hope you enjoy the following. Please review!

Day 90

            He is beginning to get better again, he eats and drinks in reasonable quantities, does what Vash tells him to. He seems determined to recover, to get well as soon as possible. 

            He's alert, too, he watches his brother, studies him, though he still speaks little. There is an aura of silent fury about Knives and he is pleased to note Vash winces at it every time he comes in.

            He first smells blood in the water when Vash's arm begins the tremble. 

            He was feeding him at the time, when the spoon began to shake, spilling its contents. He growls in anger, and Vash put down the spoon, placing it back into the bowl of stew.

            He watches as his brother pulls up the sleeve of his shirt and begins to examine the shaking arm, his cybernetic limb. He opens up a small panel and, taking out a pair of tweezers from his jean pocket, begins to fiddle with the wires and electronics inside.

            'What are you doing?' Knives enquires.

            'Sometimes sand gets into it,' explains Vash, 'or the wires come loose, it isn't much but I like to fix it quickly.'

            'It must be irritating,' remarked Knives, observing his brother put away the tweezers and close up the compartment.

            Vash only shrugs, it's obviously an annoyance he has long become used to.

            'Do you miss it?' asks Knives at last, and his brother blinks in confusion.

            'Your arm,' he explains, 'do you miss it?'

            Perhaps his brother senses he is being goaded, so he does not reply, he merely picks up the bowl and spoon again, ready to start feeding Knives.

            'It went to a better home anyway,' continues Knives, ignoring his brother's apparent disinterest, 'I know Legato appreciated it.'

            'That's nice,' mutters Vash with forced cheerfulness, 'it's good to think I made someone happy.'

            'Doesn't it bother you?' asks Knives, eager to push the subject, 'that he had your hand? That it was your hand that killed all those people? Tell me, my brother, if your hand was the one that killed, does that make you a killer?'

            Vash turns, and looks at Knives with a soft, almost pitying look, 'it's not the hands of a man that kills,' he replies, 'it's not the gun either. They are just implements. It is the soul, the mind that guides the hand and the gun. That is what kills. Tell me, Knives, what was Legato to you?'

            Knives is confused, 'he was a human,' he explains, 'a useful one, but still human. He was nothing more than my servant.'

            'Was he your tool, then? Your weapon?'

            'Yes, I suppose so.'

            'He was a weapon for you will, you guided him. Tell me, brother, if your will, your mind, was the one that killed, does that make you a killer?'

            Knives snarls, 'don't try to trap me, Vash, it won't work. I feel no guilt over what happened. I care nothing for killing humans as you well know. Besides, even if I did, it was Legato who chose his path, he who came to me when I was weak of his own choice. I guided his footsteps, yes, but I never chose them.'

            'But did you not consider where his path led him? Didn't you care?'

            Knives sneers, he feels like he has the upper hand at last, 'no, I know he was happy just to serve me. He was the only enlightened human I ever met, the only one who knew the truth, knew I was a superior being. To him, simply serving me was a privilege, a joy beyond comparison. Well worth death, in his eyes.'

            'Damn, Knives,' spits Vash, anger at last entering his words, 'can't you see what you did to him? What you made him?'

            'What I made you, you mean,' he sniggers, 'you were the one that killed him, after all. But take comfort in this, Vash, Legato Bluesummers died happy, the arm I gave him was the greatest gift possible. I gave him the arm of my twin, gave him part of myself, in a sense. He loved it more than you can understand, and he didn't just use it for killing.'

            'Really?' hisses Vash, his breathing deeper, his hands clenched to his sides, struggling to maintain his temper.

            *'Oh no, for example, I know he used it to masturbate with on a regular basis.'

            Vash lunges, picking up Knives by his shirt and thrusting him forward so that their faces touch, nose to nose. Brother to brother, sun to moon, water to sky. This is as close as they've ever been, he can smell the sweet donuts on Vash's breath, feel the warmth of his body, see the blue fire in his eyes.

            'You're a monster, Knives!' he spits, 'you take everything good and twist it! Legato loved you, damn it! He gave you his soul and you destroyed it! You meant to create the perfect example of humanity, to show me the truth, but you showed me an example of everything humanity isn't! You showed me nothing except the lengths you'll go too in your wish to hurt me! You used and destroyed the one being on this world that unconditionally loved you!'

            'Legato. Didn't. Love. Me,' Knives replies, enunciating each word perfectly, 'and besides, what about you?'

            'What about me?' 

            He blinks, not understanding. This cannot be true, it simply cannot. Vash loves him, of course he does, they squabble, they disagree, but love is there, is it not? On some level?

            'Vash,' he mummers, sounding almost pathetic, then he grasps himself, remembers himself, 'if you hate me so much, why did you spare my life? Why are you nursing me back to health?' 

            Vash shrugs, letting go of Knives' shirt and allowing him to slide back down onto the bed and pillows, 'because I won't let you use me, and I won't let you destroy me. I'm not Bluesummers. I love life, I believe in hope.'

            'So once again you're doing this for Rem?' sneers Knives, satisfied that once again he's found the answer.

            'Nope,' replies Vash, starting to leave the room, 'I remember her, but now I walk my own path.'

            'So who are you saving me for, then, dear brother?'

            'Saving you?' mutters Vash, moving out the door, 'who says this has anything to do with you?'

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ah, done. Hope you liked it. Here's the reviewer replies:

Kyp: glad you liked it. Sorry I missed your reply last time, but you're getting one now, right?

Silverarm: Thanks! Sorry about the typos, I'm badly dyslexic, I've had a lot of help with it and I always use a spell checker, but I don't know any other Trigun fans personally who'd be willing to read my stories so no beta reader… thus there will be a few small spelling errors. Sorry. If you see any popping up again and again, please let me know. I type at an average of 60 words per min, so occasionally I hit the wrong key and don't notice. So it goes…

Angelstryke: Yay, I'm so glad you're still reviewing! I'm glad you approved of Vash's actions, it did seem a very Vash thing to do, if you follow. Don't worry though, things will work out. Besides, it's not as if Knive's hasn't tried to kill him before… or something like that anyway. PLEASE keep on reviewing! The chapters will continue to get longer and (hopefully) better!

Aoi: I think Vash can be a little man when he has to, but he's a generally nice guy. He's a bit mean in this chapter too, but remember that Knives pushed him to it, so he has an excuse. I'm afraid the link didn't work… can you give me the name of the web-site instead and I can do a Google search on it? I only got your review once, BTW, so don't sweat it. Some sort of glitch in the system earlier meant that I got over 50 copies of Silverarm and Angelstryke's reviews for the last chapter! (Um… I mean the reviews before the ones answered to here, if that makes sense) so one more would have been nothing. All fixed now thank god!

Please keep on reviewing! I love you all! 

Love and Peace!


	9. Day 103

Day 103

            Despite himself, he is rather excited about today. His wounds are healing, slower than would have been hoped for, but healing none the less. He suspects his recovery time was put back by his prolonged bout of apathy last month. Not to mind, he is doing well now and soon expects to have a little movement back in his limbs. 

            Today, after his brother changes his bandages once again, he will be able to eat his own food, clasp the spoon in his own hand and put it to his mouth.

            It might not seem much for many people, but to him it is a sign of the return of independence, the first tentative steps to freedom, to pride, to being himself again.

            His brother, however, is rather subdued. Not that he could have expected anything less; Vash is not so naive that he does not worry about what he will do when fully recovered. 

            Things have been quiet since their last argument, Vash is obviously still rather annoyed at his words, not that Knives had expected, or even wanted, anything less.     Causing Vash eternal suffering may be impossible at the moment, but little irritation is still easily within Knives' reach. It'll just have to suffice for a while.

            For his part, he tries to forget Vash's words, tries to forget the accusations but the parting shot but, like a bullet lodged in bone, it irritates him.

            He finds himself metaphorically scratching it, further irritating the notion. Did Legato really love him? Was he right to- no. No, of course he was right. He must be, he is the superior being, he had worked out the logic before, he was right. How could he not be?

            Yet… yet… why was Vash doing this? Why was Vash trying to save him, healing him, if not for himself? Why?

            He watches mutely as Vash starts to unwind the bandages around his chest and shoulders. He winces as scabs come away with gauze, as fresh air hits his suffocating skin. Slowly, carefully, each bandage is undone, fresh, red and white skin appears, his wounds are once again revealed. They've been stitched, but the edges are knotting together, new skin is forming, soon the sutures can be removed. 

            Knives frowns, this is not the way he usually healed himself. Back on the SEEDS ship it had been like this, he had repaired his body in much the same way as the other humans, he'd known no better. But a bit of experimentation later, on GunSmoke, had proved that there were more effective ways of doing things. Always a fast healer, he'd used his abilities, his inner power, to heal his body at a tremendous rate, eliminating wounds and preventing scarring. Larger, more serious wounds required different attention. That had been proved after Vash had shot him with the Angle Arm. He'd had to go to another Plant to have that healed. He'd stayed a Regeneration Camber, powered by another Plant, for years, slowly healing himself, keeping himself alive. That, he recalled, had been a close thing, only his own kinship with Vash had saved him from becoming so much dust on the landscape. How long had it been before he'd been able to go out again? Twenty, thirty, fifty years? The passage of time mattered little when one was in hibernation. A blessing, thirty plus years of boredom would have been more than he could stand. 

            And even when he'd managed to become whole again he'd been far from powerful. Shamed as he was to admit it, without the help of Legato he would have been lost.  

            As it was, he had very few scars upon his body. A couple, small marks from his SEEDS days, courtesy of Steve, and one upon his leg. The place where Vash had first shot him. He'd kept that one as a reminder.

            This time, however, he did not have the energy to heal himself completely; the wounds were too serious for that. Perhaps if he had access to another Plant he might have been able to do something, but as it was they were sure to scar.

            He barely suppresses the shiver which runs up and down his spine, reminded of all the scaring upon his brother's body. Those horrible mutilations, the pain they symbolised, how humanity had tortured his sibling.

            It bothers him enough that his perfect skin will be marred after this, the reminder of Vash's own mutilation… that is far worse.

            It's like comparing the wounds of a tiger attack to the wounds caused by a torturer's knife. 

            'How can you do it?' mutters Knives to himself, forgetting momentarily that Vash is still with him, cleaning his wounds.

            'Do what?' he asks.

            'Protect the humans; after all they have done to you?'

            Vash roles his eyes, he's heard this more than once before.

            'No, really,' repeats Knives, and there's an element of earnestness in his voice, of honest curiosity which pricks at Vash's ears, 'how can you? Look what they've done to you? Look what they've done to each other. I know you're an idiot, brother, I know your sentimental but tell me, honestly, tell me that you've never felt angry at them? Tell me you've never thought I was right? Not once?'

            Vash pauses, his eyes become unfocused, distant as if he looks into the past, remembering different times, considering his answer.

            'Yes,' he says at last, 'I'm not perfect, there have been times when I wonder… when part of me thinks that death might be the better option. I've never despaired of the entire human race, Knives, not really. Though I've been tempted…'

            'Then why don't you follow it?' urges Knives, painfully pushing himself up off the bed with his elbows, 'you have the power, Vash. I gave you the power. You could wipe them all out, you could join me and we could make things better. We could make Eden, Vash; we could save all the butterflies!'

            'I've often thought that,' mutters Vash and he gazes at his hand, his real, flesh and blood hand. '1.5 centimetres,' he says at last, talking as if to himself, 'that's how far I've got to move my finger (1). To fire a gun, I mean. 1.5 centimetres and I can end a life. Can change the world. You know, there are a lot of bad people out there, for 1.5 centimetres I could make Eden. It's not far, really. Yeah, I'd loose Rem, but I might gain you, I might find some peace, at just 1.5 centimetres.'

            'So do it,' whispers Knives, excitement rushing through his body, feeling for the first time in a long while that he's finally getting through his brother's thick skull, his hypocritical idealism, his cloying sentimentality.

            Vash continues to watch his hand for a while, fascinated by its tapering fingers, weathered skin, the groves, and gullies of its lines, the mountains of the fingernails. Then smiles gently and gently shakes his head, returning his eyes to his recumbent brother.

            'Nah,' he says.

            'Why not?' this is fairly a screech.

            'Well, for one, I don't think I'd like it that way. I mean, the greatest places I've been to have been great not because I where they are, but because of the people in them. People make Eden for me, Knives. They say hell is other people, but I think heaven is too, you know? Even the bad ones can change, and when they do you get a step closer to Eden. Besides, it's too easy. I think that the longer the journey the better the destination gets to be! At 1.5 centimetres Eden isn't very far at all, so it can't be that good. There are many paths to Eden, Knives.'

            'I don't believe this!' the white haired plant shrieks, 'this coming from you, YOU! You were the one constantly asking when we were going to get there! You're the most impatient creature I know! You've been travelling all your life, you fool! For over a century you've been wandering round humans and you haven't even come close! It's pathetic! You're in hell if anything; you've had people cut chunks out of you! For God's sake, you've been looking for Eden for over a hundred years!'

            'Yeah, I know,' sighs Vash sadly, then he looks up and his eyes twinkle merrily, 'guess that means, when I get there, it's gonna be really AWSOME!'

            'I don't believe this,' mutters Knives again, lying back down upon his pillow and contemplating the ceiling, 'I don't believe even you could be so stupid…'

            'Awww, what can I say?' chuckles his brother, standing up and making a dramatic pose, 'I'm but a hunter of peace, chasing the mayfly of lo- OUCH!'

            This last exclamation is caused by Knives, who throws a rolled up yard of bandages at his face, striking him squarely in the nose.

            'Just finish up and get out,' he growls.

            Vash grins sheepishly and obeys, obviously in no mood to rile him further.

            Knives, meanwhile, raises his eyes once more to the heavens, 'of all the creatures in this universe,' he mummers, 'why did I have to have him as a brother?'

            (1) I don't own Vash's gun, nor am I completely aware of the measurements involved. This is just a rough guess. If it's wrong (which in all probability it is) then I sincerely apologise. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Reader Replies! 

Oooh, lots and lots of new readers! Hi guys! 

Silverarm: Heh, the Vash/Legato angle is an interesting one to explore, because Legato, more than any other character, seems to be designed for Vash to hate. He's absolutely the opposite of everything Vash believes in, even more so than Knives in a way. I think that's why Knives sent him after Vash, to teach Vash how to hate humans, even just one human, and from that to learn to kill. Cunning no? I'm glad you liked me covering this angle, anyway.

Ron the Future Weasel: Oh wow, talk about a good reviewer! Feel free to share this story, the more the merrier! And it's great to have you aboard! Nice theory about the present tense style. When I think about it I suppose I chose the style because it meant I could both tell this story from Knives' point of view, and get very much inside his head, but keep that… strangeness about him. This kind of style lends a definite feeling to a story… I think it works. Anyway, your wonderful comments are really welcome, they honestly are, and it's great to know I've got the dialogue right. Please keep on commenting!

Calumongal: Oooh, another new reviewer! Thanks for the complement, and yep, that's how to spell Knives' but thanks for confirming. Glad you like the descriptive work in this. I'm usually not so good on that side, but I think I'm improving. I hope I'll see you reviewing the next chapter!

Angelstryke: Well, I'll probably be posting a chapter every two or three days, so long as a) I get reviews and b) nothing goes wrong with FFN and/or my internet access. I'm glad you liked the 'better home comment,' I rather like writing mean Knives! And yeah, I know that the * comment wasn't ALL that bad, but I was just covering my butt. This is one of the longest stories I've ever written, and I didn't want it to be tossed off FFN because some mother's little boy Tommy had read it and asked what the * was or something. You know? Better safe than sorry. I'm gland no one seems to have had a problem with it, though.

Aio: Thanks for the link! It works now and hell, what a neat picture! Knives looks very young in it though doesn't he? I'm glad this has some of the same views and stuff, I did a lot of reading and research for this, considering all different opinions, trying to get to know the characters even more. I would comment on the love thing, but to be honest my opinion on it is all within this story, so you're going to have to keep on reading! As mentioned before, this fic basically is about their relationship, and the question of their Love will be resolved at the end… or something like that anyway. I'll say one thing, though, no matter how you look at it, those two do have a love/hate relationship, the question is… which is stronger? And for whom? 

AnonymousTrigunOtaku: Um… would you mind if I called you ATO? It's be a lot simpler for future review replies? Anyway, thanks for the complements. I was actually going for badly written and unintelligent but heck, you can't have everything! J I'm also glad the Legato part went down well… I had a feeling that might attract a few readers. 

Please keep reviewing! 

FlipKat: Oooh, nice to see you've joined the fabulous world of Fanfiction! Even nicer to see that you like mine! I try to write as well as I can, and keep things original. I'm far from the best out there, though, which means that you've got some good stuff ahead of you! If you want any suggestions as to any good Trigun fanfic, give me an E-mail! And please, please, please keep on reviewing! 

Well, that's it for now guys, please stay tuned, the next chapter should be a dramatic one. And don't stop reviewing!


	10. Day 145

Day 145

            Once again he is considering killing himself. 

            Or at least he wishes he was dead.

            He is still healing, though now he has full movement in his arms and some in his legs, he cannot move without pain. So he doesn't move much at all, really. 

            This, however, is not the real problem.

            Boredom is the problem.

            He has nothing to do, no one to talk to. The latter does not bother him overly, he is used to being alone, and he does have Vash. Not that he will willingly start much of a conversation with that hair brained idiot, the cause of all his torment and suffering. 

            But he is bored none the less. 

            Vash has lent him books to read, but these are bad enough in themselves. Most of them come from a publisher known as Mills and Boon. Knives has privately vowed that, as soon as he recovers, he will destroy them and all the authors that have published under them. 

            He throws the latest book from said publishers across the room in a fit of disgust, smiling grimly as it slams against the opposite wall and slides down, landing with its pages open, and hopefully breaking the spine.

            Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

            He needs to get out of here, out of this bed, this room, away from everything, including his brother.

            Especially his brother.

            Whilst his body grows stronger, he feels his mind, his will, becoming weaker.     The hard rocks and platforms of his thoughts and opinions are quickly becoming quicksand of unsurely. He can feel himself falling, becoming sucked into confusion, he's asking questions he's not asked himself since his earliest days upon the SEEDS ship, and though he cannot admit it even to himself, he is afraid that he'll come to some very different conclusions.

            This he cannot tolerate. Cannot face.

            He needs to escape, the walls of this room are closing in on him, the covers on his bed press upon his body, his own pillow is suffocating him. 

            He must escape and now is as good a time as any.

            He has the movement, he might even be able to get out of town without re-opening any of his injuries, if he's careful, it is only the pain barrier that blocks him and to Knives that is a mighty wall indeed.

            He spends a few moments readying himself to the momentous undertaking, taking in deep, cleansing breaths, before slowly sliding his legs over the edge of the bed.

            He hisses in agony at the unbearable aching in his limbs. But he will persevere. Slowly, methodically, fighting back the waves of pain, he moves into a sitting position and places his feet upon the floor.

            The next step is momentous, requiring further deep breaths, further preparations. He contemplates finding something to put between his teeth, something to bite down upon. 

            No; he won't be that weak. His brother has coped with worse and he is a complete retard, Million Knives wishes to change the world, he can cope with a little pain.

            He stands.

            For a moment he nearly topples forward, he catching the scream in his throat, and grabs hold of the wall, changing his momentum so he leans against it instead of falling headfirst onto the floor. 

            The pain is an entirely new dimension.

            Yet, to his shock, he finds he can bare it. Only just, but he can bare it. 

            This is odd, previously such amounts of agony would have been his undoing, but it seems he is acquiring a tolerance for it. 

            Knives hasn't often encountered pain. There was the pain when Vash first shot him in the leg, and the Angel Arm incident, of course. Then there had been numerous other, tiny incidents. A scratched knee there, a small bruise here, but not much. Oh, there had been Steve on the SEEDS ship, but his physical ministrations had been few, really. Indeed, when Knives cast his mind back to that distant time and despicable man; no, insect; what had hurt more had not been the physical abuse, but the mental.

            It had been Steve's words, his accusations, which had cut Knives to the core.

            Until he'd developed an armour for them, of course. He'd learned to switch off, to ignore such pain, to place himself away from the situation. It was only an insects words, after all, it wasn't true, how could it be? The arguments he'd created had protected him from such mental anguish, now only Vash's words could ever hold any mental pain for him.

            Perhaps that was another difference between him and his twin, Vash had found a tolerance for physical pain, and Knives for mental.

            For a second he wonders who is the better off.

            Then he shakes his head, such musings will do no good and are beside the point. He is finally up on two legs, finally can escape this prison and from there find revenge.

            Step by painful step he shuffles his way across the room, clinging to the wall for support, making his slow way to the door.

            He stops as he reaches one of the shelving units. Vash has left no guns in the room, of course, but he's left some other useful implements, such as a knife for cutting bandages. 

            A weapon.

            Knives grin is almost manic as he picks it up on one shaking hand. His grip upon the wall is weaker now he has one hand busy, but he has a weapon. 

            Oh, it feels good.

            He continues his shuffling journey, his eyes fixed upon the door, the second obstacle.

            When he reaches it, he spends a moment gathering his strength once again, before removing his hand from the wall and standing on his own. Nothing is supporting him, nothing is coddling him. He is independent once more.

            Another manic grin and he grips the door handle and opens the portal.

            It isn't even locked.

            He slips through it, stepping over the threshold into a large, airy room. The living area of Vash's small house. He barely has time to register it, however, before everything comes crashing down around his ears.

            The front door, finally visible, opens and Vash returns. 

            He looks up at Knives and his mouth drops open, his jaw fairly touching the floor. At any other time Knives would have thought the sight rather amusing.

            Not now, however.

            In a brief flash of panic, he forgets himself and dives forward, determined to run past his brother. 

            He forgets the pain, forgets the limitations of his injuries. The pain redoubles and assaults him with armies beyond measure. 

            He stumbles and falls, his limbs throbbing and useless. 

            The world seems to slow as he tumbles down onto the floor, arms flailing, the knife still clutched in one hand. Vash lunges forwards, sliding across the floor, his arms reaching out to catch his tumbling brother. 

            He succeeds and Knives finds himself cradled in Vash's warm arms, trapped and coddled.

            He screams wildly, disappointment, anger, helplessness overtaking him. 

            He brings forward the knife, swinging it with deadly precision, attempting to slit open his brother's exposed throat.

            Vash dodges at the last moment, the knife slicing through the flesh of his shoulder, instead.

            He gasps in pain briefly and somehow uses one hand to force the weapon out of Knives' hand, Knives can give little resistance.

            Then, ignoring his own weeping wound, Vash picks him up and carries him back into his room, and onto the bed.

            Vash rechecks Knives' wounds and notices that a couple have torn themselves open again. Ignoring the screamed protests of his patient, he tends to them, cleaning them with alcohol and bandaging them quickly and neatly. He can only consider it lucky that they've not torn open so far as to need stitches once again.

            He pays no heed to his own knife wound, the blood from it is slowly soaking his shirt, turning it the colour of geraniums.  

            Knives, meanwhile, is less than happy. He screams and flails, forcing his brother to hold him down. His hands claw desperately at Vash's exposed skin, fury twisting his features into a dreadful mask.

            'Damn you!' he yells, 'damn you!'

            'Stay still, Knives,' grunts Vash, 'you'll just hurt yourself more.'

            'How could you!' Knives continues, struggling and buckling regardless, 'don't you understand what you're doing to me? Don't you care what you're putting me through?'

            'Not really,' muttered Vash, 'I'm not enjoying this, but you've brought this upon yourself.'

            'You can't know,' howls Knives bitterly, 'you can't comprehend how much this hurts, how much I'm suffering!'

            Vash pauses from his ministrations, 'on the contrary brother,' he replies, his face set and serious, his eyes infinitely sad and old, 'I know all about pain. I've known ultimate suffering, right? You made sure of that.'

            Knives stops screaming at this, he just stares at his brother mutely, his blue eyes wide and shocked, shocked beyond screams and tears. 

            Vash quickly finishes up and gets to his feet, now he seems to feel the pain of his own wounds and he clutches it, heedless of the sticky blood which soon coats his hand, 'I'm going to tend to this,' he grunts, 'I'll be through the other room if you need me.'

            He moves out of the room, staggering himself now, he closes the door behind him, and Knives hears the clicking sound of a key turning in the lock.

            For a moment there is nothing but shock, numb, simple, shock.

            Then the pain returns in full force, physical and mental.

            Tears come to his eyes briefly, but he does not release them, he draws pride and rage together into an impenetrable barrier and keeps them inside, storing them away. He will not cry, he has not cried in over a century save for moments of extreme physical pain. He will show no weakness to anyone, especially not his little brother. 

He will not cry. He cannot cry.

Perhaps he has forgotten how to.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Oooh, a nice, long and dramatic chapter for you all. Aren't you happy? And there's another nice long, dramatic chapter next! 

Ah… I've such wonderful reviews from such wonderful reviewers too! All useful, all nice, all long and everything! I love you guys! But on to specific replies:

Angelstryke: Yes, the insurance girls will appear in this, as will some explanation. However, they won't have much of a role because this story is about Knives and Vash's relationship, rather than the usual K/M/V/M spiel. Not that I've anything against it, it's cool, I enjoy reading it, but it's been done over and over again. Also, remember that this is told mainly from Knives's perspective, he will only know what he finds out himself and what Vash tells him. I doubt that Vash is all that keen to introduce him Meryl and Millie for obvious reasons. So yes, they will appear, as will an explanation, but don't expect it to be too long or too detailed. 

(Gulp, I hope I haven't put you off this story…)

Aoi: Thanks for the link! There's some really neat art there! This is all coming up pretty fast because for the most part it's already written! I'm just posting chapters when I have enough time/reviews. So keep reviewing if you want another chapter up soon! Ah, good old Vash/Knives bonding, and there's more to come, trust me. I'm also glad the 1.5 centimetre thing worked. It was what inspired some of this story, that all the time Vash has been travelling, all that suffering, if he could have just pulled his trigger finger, activated his angel arm… he could have had Eden, had heaven. But he loves the human race so much, despite all they do to him, he doesn't. I think it's a really nice thought… 

As for Rem… maybe… maybe… you'll just have to find out, won't you? 

Silverarm: Thanks! That's a real complement. Personally, I don't think I've really done Vash all that well… he's OK but… well… he isn't as goofy as he should be. Though he is with Knives and in a very tense situation so… Yeah. Personally, I find Sailor Lilith Chan writes the best Vash. Her recent story, Letters From the Wasteland is of… acquired taste, but other stuff, such as The Gunslinger Who Was Baptised In Blood, includes some of the best Vash characterisation/treatment I've ever seen. I highly recommend her. Anyway, thank you for the complement again! I hope I manage to keep it throughout the story.

Ron the Future Weasel: Your story was sweet! I was surprised it didn't get more reviews… No, there's no real pattern to the passing of days, though they are leading up to something… as mentioned, the 1.5 centimetre thing was part of what inspired this story, read my reply to Aoi for details, but again I'm happy you liked it! I'm also glad the last part worked… I was worried it was too light-hearted for the rest of this story. But it was a scene I could really picture in my head. 

ATO: Thanks, that's made things easier. I don't know… it's a long name but it's very memorable, if you change it then  people will have an easier time referencing you and stuff, but it really stands out on screen. I'm glad you liked this chapter, even though is was a more philosophical one than anything. This one was more action orientated, to give people a break from all that musing. Did it work? Please let me know!

I'm looking forward to hearing from you all! Until next time! __


	11. Day 151

Day 151

            He seems to have fallen into hell. 

            It's a noisy hell, the constant twittering of human minds, chirping like crickets, driving him mad with their grating. They're on the edge of his current abilities, he's far too weak to use his powers properly yet he's also too weak to control them, which means he is unable to block the scraping, chirping sound out. It grates on him dreadfully.

            It's nothing compared to the heat, though. He's been hot before, of course, but this makes the furnace of the noon day suns in the desert seem as nothing. It's as if he's burning up inside, his blood boils, sweat soaks him and his bedding, yet he can't stop shivering. The bullet wound of his left shoulder is the centre of the furnace, it aches and burns and screams at him. Had he been in a more stable frame of mind, he might have given thought to this, as it's the same side, and nearly the same place he injured his brother yesterday. He might consider whether it is some strange form of sympathetic wound, or perhaps it is coincidence, or even fate… but such questions are beyond his fevered imaginings.

            He wants to move, to tear off all the bedding and run naked into the sun, or better still into a bath. But he can't, he's been tied down, tied for his own safety.

            Somewhere, between the demons of delirium and the hallucinations, he recalls Vash tying his hands down onto the bed, muttering something about fever and infection. Yes; infection, he recalls Vash gazing in horror as he changed his bandages four days ago, gazing at the puss filled crater that was once smooth with healing skin. He really has brought this upon himself. 

            The room warps and twists around him, dripping in and out of darkness and light. Vash and all reality wavers like smoke upon the wind, sometimes as substantial as a nightmare, other times a mere whisper of a memory.

            And all the time Knives faces the noise, the heat, the pain…

            The insanity…

            He must be deep in fever now, he thinks, as he looks up into the sky so blue, his lean body stretched out upon the grassy plane of Dreamscape.

            'You should really take more care of yourself, Knives,' says Rem contemplatively, 'Vash can't do all the work, you know.'

            Knives sighs and looks over to her, she's lying besides him, also gazing up into the sky, long black hair haloed around her, a soft smile tugs at the corners of her lips, yet there is sadness in her face, too.

            'You don't often visit my dreams,' he remarks, turning to look up into the sky, 'I thought you preferred to spend time with my brother.'

            Rem giggles, 'so analytical, Knives, sometimes you should just accept. I like seeing both of you, you know. You're both my little angels.'

            'Vash was always your favourite. Your baby.' 

            'You think? I was always more worried about you, that's why I told Vash to take care of you.'

            'I can take care of myself!'

            His declaration echoed around them oddly, the sky seemed to grow darker.

            Rem frowns, an odd look on her usually sweet face, 'careful, Knives,' she warns, 'only one visitor is aloud at a time. You're lucky Vash is around, or else I wouldn't be here. Do you really want _him_ here that much that you'd banish me?'

            Knives looks around sharply, his features twist in anger, 'how do you know about that? How can you know anything about me! You're dead! Not that you cared much when you were alive.'

            'This is your head, Knives,' reminds the woman, 'I'm just here to give you a new perspective on things.'

            'I don't need a new perspective. I've worked it all out already, I'm right!'

            Rem laughs in the face of his ire, 'you're so scientific! That's what I loved best about you, Knives; you were always the voice of reason. But you were so stubborn, worse than Vash, even. Once you had an idea, you never let go.'

            'Science is science. It's truth. Why should I deny that?'

            'Is it? Even scientists know that what humans perceive they taint with their own perceptions, even scientists know they can be wrong. Give them the proof which says otherwise, and they'll go a different path.'

            'Well, I've seen no such proof.'

            'Haven't you? Or are you just ignoring what's put in front of you, Knives. You really should listen more!'

            He snorts, 'like my brother? I suppose this is where you go on about Love and Peace, yes? Try to brainwash me with all that dreamy, hypocritical philosophy?'

            'No,' she replies calmly, 'this is where I remind you that the ticket to the future is always open, as long as you _look_ at it. If you look at the world with a closed mind and eyes then you'll see nothing but darkness. Just ask Vash.'

            Knives blinks, 'Vash? But he-'

            'Shhhh,' hushes Rem, putting a slender finger to her lips and grinning, 'that's a story only he can tell. I must be going now, just remember to walk your own path, Knives, that's all… walk your own path…'

            She fades as she speaks these words, a wind blows up, carrying clouds of geranium petals, and when the fury of flaming petals has finally abated, she is gone completely.

            'Damn woman,' he mutters, sitting up, 'I am walking my own path! She never talked common sense!' 

            Yet even as he says these words, he can not help but smile a little. He does not like Rem any more, how could he after what she did to Vash? But he does not hate her as much as some. Back in the old days, aboard the SEEDS ship, she'd actually been the only human Knives had any tolerance for. He'd even loved her as Vash had, once. When he'd believed her fairy tales and sweet lies. 

            Truth be told, he wouldn't have found her half as disgusting as most spiders, had it not been for her brainwashing of Vash. Had she not been the one to take his brother away from him. 

            That thought sends a brief surge of fury through Knives' body, or what passes as a body in this strange, fevered dream. That damn human! What she had done to Vash, the pain she had caused him, had caused both of them. That was what made him hate her eternally and with a passion of loathing few could match.

            Indeed, with the possible exception of Vash, whom Knives had found he loves and hated in equal measure, there was only one other creature within the universe whom he despises more.

            As if summoned by these thoughts, _He _appeared.

            Beneath him the grass withers, turning into dark, baked earth, the sky turns a dark, grey, the air becomes hot and dry. There's a disconcerting pressure in the air, the feeling of a storm just about to break.

            Knives scowls and twists his body into a defensive posture, his hand reaches for a gun which isn't there, and his teeth clench in rage. 

            He's much the same as he always appears in dreams like this. Just the same as Knives saw him last, parallel in every way, including height. Despite the fact that Knives is now full grown and should, if this were reality, be a head taller than Steve, he still looks up at him from a child's eye perspective. Steve looms over him like a mountain, a nasty grin smeared across his face, his breath reeking of alcohol. 

            Knives grimaces, he has never tolerated much more than a small glass of red wine, the stench of booze disgusts him. 

            'What's the matter monster?' Steve sneers, 'someone put a muzzle and leash on you at last?'

            Knives does not dignify him with a reply, he tries to summon his Angel Arm, as he has always done in dreams such as this, but it will not appear. 

            Oh dear, it seems as if he really is in a nightmare.

            Steve steps forward, staggering slightly, his arms reaching forward, grasping, groping, ready to snatch at him, to break him.

            Knives moves back further, fear making an appearance in his gut now. Fear and hatred. How he loathes this man, this dreg of humanity, a species already the scum of the universe. 

            'I've killed you once,' he whispers, 'these encounters only give me the opportunity of repeating the experience.'

            'S'pose you enjoy dreams like this, then, eh monster?' says Steve, still viciously grinning.

            'Of course not, I get little pleasure from actual killing; I'm not as _human_ as that. I get pleasure of a job well done, that's all. This is just a fevered dream, a repeat performance; it serves no purpose other than to remind me of what trash you spiders are!'

            He hopes his words might somehow dissuade Steve, that his denial would push him back into the depths of his psyche. It doesn't work, instead his nemesis looks, oddly enough, puzzled.

            'How come you keep bringing me back then?' he asks, 'if I keep causing you pain?'

            Now it is Knives turn to be confused, this does not sound like Steve, the Steve that haunts his dreams is never so introspective or doubting, is never anything other than the bullying, abusing lowlife he remembers with such loathing. 

            'Who are you?' he mutters, mostly to himself, though he can hardly be surprised as, with a sound like ripping cloth, the dream form of Steve tears in two, revealing his brother, Vash.

            Vash grins at him goofily, as if this is the kind of thing that happens every day. He's wearing is old SEEDS uniform and, like Knives, has no weapon by his side.

            'Hi, Knives!' he says, waving, his easy smile cutting through Knives heart. 

            'So I'm dreaming about you now, am I?' mutterers Knives, 'that's odd… I don't often dream of you like this…'

            Vash gins self consciously and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, a sure sign he's feeling guilty, 'actually,' he says, 'in a way, you're not.'

            'Not? What's going on, Vash?'

            'You're not dreaming. Sorry about this, Knives, but I'm afraid I'm kinda in your head right about now.'

            From the horizon of the dreamscape there is a billowing cloud of red fire, lightening flashes, Knives response shakes the very earth and echoes like thunder in the sky.

            'WHAT!'

            'Don't get all riled up now!' protests Vash, raising his hands up in a placating manner, he knows how protective Knives is about his mental privacy, 'it's not as bas as it sounds. I'm not all that deeply in, I mean this isn't really me you're talking to, I won't remember a thing! I don't now a thing. Well, obviously I do, I mean I can still tell you what's going on, but-'

            'Brother,' rasps Knives carefully, his every word loaded with unspoken threat, 'explain matters from the start. Clearly.'

            'Fine,' sighs Vash, 'see, your left shoulder wound, the one that got re-opened when you tried to escape, it became infected. Right now you, which is to say your body, is lying in your bed in a really bad fever. This is all part of a fever dream, see?'

            'I'd ascertained as much,' mutterers Knives, 'tell me something I don't know.'

            'Well, in this state you're not really controlling your telepathic powers,' explains Vash, or whatever this being is, 'it's effecting me… or rather the outside Vash… anyway, it's also hurting people in the village too, headaches and stuff. So I… uh… Vash, is using his own abilities to keep yours in check, to calm you down. Thing is, even though he isn't probing deeply or anything, some of him, his psyche, has kinda leaked into your mind and combined with your powers and your memories to create… well… me. That explains why you were dreaming of Rem before, by the way.'

            'Yes,' says Knives, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, 'it does.'

            'You understand then? Good, because I'm having trouble, it's all pretty scary if you ask me! But don't worry, this is still all in your head, I won't remember a thing of this, so there's no reason to go psycho or anything.'

            Dream-Vash gives a goofy grin at this, though nervousness seems to leak through his every pore.

            'Don't worry, brother,' sighs Knives, 'I understand, there's no need to act the fool, I know better.' 

            'Sure,' says Dream-Vash, then frowns, 'seeing as I'm here, and I won't remember this, can I ask you a question?'

            'You can ask, though I can't promise to answer.'

            'Why do you dream of Steve, I thought you hated him?'

            'You dream of Rem.'

            'Yeah but, well, I like her. I love her, in fact. She's shaped my life; I carry on as I do so I can keep dreaming of her. You don't seem to like Steve at all, not that it surprises me.'

            Knives considers this statement, 'I suppose I have similar reasons,' he admits at last, 'Steve shaped my view of the world, he showed me what humans really are. I need to dream of him to remind me of that.'

            'Doesn't sound very nice,' responds Vash, 'I'd rather dream of Rem, I like my dreams better.'

            Knives snorts, 'and look where that has gotten you? Full of bullets, covered in scars, your lifeblood soaking the sands of GunSmoke!'

            'Hey, I'm not the one tied to the bed healing from four bullet holes,' Dream-Vash replies, his voice an equal measure of serious and mocking, 'I'm not the one entirely alone. I'm not the one who hurts and drives away those who love him… well, not purposefully, anyway. At least my dreams are-'

            He didn't get much further than this for, at that moment, the sky changes colour once more. A wave of energy, a cooling, fresh breeze, rolls across the dreamscape. Knives senses a change in the air, he does not need Dream-Vash to repeat what he soon realises.

            'Your fever has broken!' Dream-Vash crows, punching the air joyfully, 'now I… uh, the real me, can get out of your head, so I guess I'll be going in a moment. It's been nice talking to you like this, Knives. Please think about what I've said, OK? And have nicer dreams if you can, I think they'd be better for you. Remember, yo-'

            But Dream-Vash gets no further than this, for another, gentle breeze caresses the landscape and his dissipates like smoke, his tentative presence gone from Knives mind.

            'Your ticket to the future is always blank,' finishes Knives to himself, 'yes, yes, I know.'

            He sighs and sits back down upon the dry earth. It's getting darker; blackness is eating away at the edges of his DreamScape. He knows his body, finally free from fever, is slipping into a deeper sleep, a dreamless sleep. He also knows that, when he awakes, he will have some hard decisions to make.

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Reader's Replies:

Empress Galaxia: Glad I made you smile with my comments and it's always wonderful to have a new reader! I mentioned the Meryl/Millie angle more filly in another Reader's Reply, in the last chapter I think. But to repeat I'll say that yes, they will make an appearance, but not for a while and don't expect them to take too big a role. 

Ron The Future Weasel: Whee! Made you wait for this chapter, eh? I'm not entirely sure the Mills and Boon comment fits, but I do think that humour is important within a long grim story, it adds variation in the mood. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, knowing that makes writing this all worth while! 

Agelstryke: As I just said, I do think humour is important in a long fic like this, to add variation. It makes the dark bits stand out more, I think. Getting Knives right can be hard, on the one hand he's quite an… analytical character, on the other he's very emotional. I suppose it's a matter of choosing which emotions he shows. Or that's how I see it anyway, I'm shocked that people keep saying my characters are good, and very happy. It's what I value most in a story, quite often. Truth to characterisation. I hope this chapter (late as it is) lives up to your high expectations! 

Aoi: Lol! Yeah, poor Knives has been locked up for a while now! Poor little homicidal maniac! Your friend has a point, I suppose it's more of a matter how long a person can put up with pain… Knives is extremely proud and possibly extremely desperate, which is possibly what allowed him to carry on through all the pain! Also, I think Vash has had more… experience with physical pain, (I should hope so, anyway, with all those scars!) Again, it's Knives' pride and anger which made him do such a stupid thing, I think, he probably hadn't thought it through clearly and I agree, there is a high possibility that he would have died if he hadn't been stopped by Vash but then again… with Knives who knows?

Jaina: Yay! A new reviewer! I do so hope you review this chapter! And yes, no Mary Sue! Which isn't to say there won't be any OC's later on, but I can promise that there shouldn't be any Mary Sues. Or any Poo-Nanny. And yes, as I said before, the Insurance Girls will appear in this, but don't count on it being very soon or for all that long. 

ATO: Glad the musing/Action angle is working. After this is might lean more to the musing angel, but you're just going to have to go with me, OK? Thanks!

Silverarm: Thanks for the spelling info! I'll try to correct it in future chapters. It's those kind of mistakes that really demand a Beta Reader to pick them up, I just miss them! And the spell checker is no help… ah well. 

Ah, look at all those wonderful reviews! You people make me so happy! I do so hope you liked this one, the next chapter will be short I'm afraid, but it should get longer again. Please let me know what you think! RNR! 


	12. Day 152

Day 152 

            Once again he emerges from the darkness, his icy blue eyes tentatively opening, letting in the hazy light. There is not so much pain, this time, though his left shoulder throbs abominably, he feels as if it is a healthy pain, a clean pain. He's still tied down, but he is not alone for next to him, sitting on the chair and leaning forward across the bed, is his brother.

            He's sleeping; there are dark rings under his eyes, rings showing the stress of many nights restlessness, of many nights fighting the infection that was threatening Knives.

            For a while Knives does nothing, he merely treasures this moment, when he can look at his brother in peaceful repose. All the pain of the world stripped away, all the false humanity, the joking, the fear, the armour. This is Vash as Knives once knew him, the child he played with on the SEEDS ship, the creature he loved, and perhaps still loves, more than anything upon this world.

            At last, however, the dryness in his throat and mouth become unbareable and other painful sensations make themselves known.

            'Vash,' he rasps, his voice horse from lack of water, 'Vash!'

            His brother stirs slightly, Knives fears he will not awake, he's always been a deep sleeper, but his aqua eyes slowly open and he blearily takes in the sights around him. Then, like an old jack-in-the-box toy, complete with crazy hair and stupid grin, he sits bolt upright in the chair.

            'Knives!' he gasps, 'you're awake! How are you feeling?'

            'Thirsty,' croaks Knives, hoping his Vash can understand what he's saying, he could use telepathy but he thinks the mental strain might not be such a good idea at this time. 

            'Sure,' says Vash quickly, and reaches over to a bowl and sponge. He dampens the sponge in the water, then trickles some into Knives throat. 

            Knives drinks the water gratefully, relishing the moisture. He still feels sick and dizzy, still feels ill and hot, but the fever has gone at least, he can think clearly now.

            'Vash,' he mutters his voice still weak.

            'Yes?' responds his brother, pausing from administrating the water.

            'Vash, I think… I think I'm ready to listen to you now.'

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Ach, sorry for such a short chapter, it's just the way it works I guess. To make up for it, the next chapter will be along VERY soon! 

Aoi: Yeah, this is an important chapter because it kinda marks a turning point… keep on reading and you'll discover more. Humm… Knives was naked? I didn't notice that… wow… I wrote a naked Knives without realizing it… how cool can you get? Sorry about the darkening sky bit, I guess it didn't come out as clear as it was meant to, yeah, it was Steve. Sorry. I've read some Manga translations but no Manga itself. It looks pretty cool, but as I know the Anime better I've based my story mainly of that. Sorry. I can't picture Knives feeling particually bothered he'd caused humans headaches, but I think he's got soo many other things to worry about to be jumping for joy right now. Thanks for the feedback anyway! I love useful stuff like this!

EmpressGalaxia: I'm happy you liked this chapter, this one is not so much introspective but rather too short! The reader replies will be longer than the narration! But don't worry, the next part will be up soon.

Ron The Future Weasel: Oh, sorry for keeping you waiting! Still, I can't help but feel slightly smug I made you check your E-mail account to much! Was Dream-Vash real or not? Mmmm… even I'm not sure about that one. If he wasn't real (as he claimed) then Vash really will know nothing, if he was lying however then I still can't picture Vash being upfront about it. I picture Knives being rather picky about his mental privacy. Yes, silly Knives, very, very silly!

ATO: I'm so happy the musing angle is working, I think it shows the intelligence of the readership that they can take this kind of narrative, rather than something full of guns and kisses, as it were. I feel so privilaged to have such a wonderful selection of readers!

Angelstryke: You hate Rem? How could you! Lol! She is a bit wimpy I guess, but sweet, I'm glad you didn't hate her too much here. It's also so good to know I'm getting the dialogue right. I hope Knives' little decision here lives up to your expectations. I'm not going to turn him good over night, but now I think he's on the path to at least *listening* to what his brother's saying. Which, if nothing else, is a start. 

Calumongal: YAY! You're still with us! :glomp: And with such praise too! You have Knives down to a T! It's SO the problem with him, he's so sane and yet so… insane. It makes him a fun, if difficult character to write. Yeah, I love writing polar opposites, even though, in some ways, Vash and Knives aren't? They do share a hell of a lot in common, their stubbornness, their fixation upon their ideals… stuff which links them together as much as it draws them apart. I once heard that a good villain should be as close to the main character as possible, should only be two or three steps away from what the Main Character could become, this is what makes Knives and Vash such excellent characters to write, the knowledge that if just a few things had happened slightly differently it could be Vash screaming about saving butterflies and Knives running around with Meryl and Millie. Scary, huh? Heh, I'm glad I've addicted you to this plot, don't worry too much though, you'll get your next 'fix' soon! 

Thanks for reviewing again! PLEASE keep it up! You make writing this all worth while. Also, if you like my style check out my other two, very short Trigun fics. Leave reviews too, if you can. AND, if you hold a fondness for X-Men Evo, you might want to check those fics out too, whatever character you like, I've most probably written about it!

See you all next time!


	13. Day 166

Day 166

            His recovery is not instantaneous and, though he is now willing to listen, he has not time to or the opportunity. He bares an inheritance of weakness from the fever; the next few days are spent slipping in and out of a dreamless sleep. And, after that, even when he had recovered to the point he was before the fever (more or less) Vash speaks little. It seems alike to an indrawn breath, a thoughtful pause before speech, wherein the speaker attempts to find the right words. It is both understandable and frustrating.

            When at last he does begin to speak, to really speak, it is not of world moving matters, but of small things. The weather outside, the excellence of his convalescence, the price of medicines, the taste of food. To Knives, who has never been one to dance round a subject, it is even more frustrating than the silence.

            Yet he remembers his words and tries, at least, to reply in a civil manner and take some interest in the topics of conversation.

            Thus is his quite relieved when his brother finally starts to talk of more serious matters.

            It starts with a conversation of doughnuts.

            Vash holds one in his hand now, he's brought a bag of them home and has shared them, fifty/fifty (well, sixty/forty, but Knives pretends not to notice) with him.   Knives has never been such a large fan of doughnuts, he likes them, but he doesn't cram them into his mouth like Vash. Indeed, there's very little in the way of food Knives truly likes, he eats just about anything, but he rarely over indulges himself in any one type of food like Vash does.

            'Doughnuts,' says the man in question at last, 'are one of the best things on this world. I mean, can you imagine a world without them?'

            `Knives grunts, indicating that yes, he can; he has little problem with this concept.

            'I can't,' says Vash, 'It would be a dreadful thing, I think, if no one made doughnuts any more.'

            'Hardly,' snorts Knives, 'you'd just learn to make your own.'

            'Yeah, but it wouldn't be the same, you know? Part of the fun with Doughnuts is the way they all taste a little different, because different people make them. Having exactly the same doughnut every day would get boring.'

            Knives grins, guessing what Vash is finally getting at, 'if you're trying to persuade me,' he chuckles, 'that the pestilence which is the Human Race should be spared due to it's ability to make sweet pastry products, then give up now. It's possibly the weakest argument I've ever heard you, or anyone else for that matter, use.'

            'But it applies to other things too,' Vash insists, forgetting his treat for a moment, 'like wine, art, books, everything. Humans make so many good and interesting things, Knives, so much beauty that we can't just throw it away!'

            'Yes,' agrees Knives, leaning back upon his pillow, 'they've created some good things, they've also created war, torture, rape, prejudice, pollution, dreadful creations they use against each other and the world around them. When you look at the big picture you see the truth. Humans are a destructive virus, a disease ravaging this planet, just as it ravaged its home-world.'

            'They've made some mistakes,' agrees Vash, picking up his doughnut again and munching down upon it, 'but they're learning, I think. Besides, who are we to condemn them? What gives us the right to stand from up on high and judge? We're just the same, really.'

            'No we're not,' snaps Knives, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, 'we're Plants, we're nothing like them. We're different.'

            'True, but that doesn't make us better or worse, just different.' 

            'We are superior.'

            'How so?'

            Knives turns a puzzled eye to Vash, who is currently licking the doughnut sugar off his fingers, the question has caught him off guard, is not the answer obvious? He reels of the reasons anyway; nothing is so simple it cannot be blocked by Vash's thick skull, after all.

            'We are somewhat faster, stronger, our senses are sharper. We are more intelligent, our brains are capable of processing and memorising information faster. We live a long time, if not forever, we heal faster, we have the Angel Arm, and other powers, powers which you have not even attempted to patch into, my brother. And this is only the start, I think, who knows how much more we might learn in time!'

            'All true,' agrees Vash once again, 'but I ask again, how are we superior? What have we done, really? What have we created? What have we made that's left a real legacy? How have we changed the world around us? Aside from blowing large chunks of it away, that is.'

            'What are you talking about? I mean to create Eden, Vash, a perfect world! To bring peace to this troubled planate, is that not legacy enough?'

            'Not if you're the only one to enjoy it,' continues his brother, 'face it, Knives, even if I agreed and stayed with you, what would happen? We can't have children, there aren't any women! The only ones to enjoy this Eden would be us! That would be no legacy, not really, we would just be stuck together for all eternity with no one to keep us company, no one to pass our world onto, no one to remember us when we'd die. If we die. It'd be pointless, more of a hell than a heaven, really.'

            'We'd have each other,' muttered Knives, trying to sound certain, though some worry niggles at his mind.

            'Oh yeah, sure. Just look how far away we've drifted in a century, imagine what an eternity would do? Besides I'm a people person, even if you aren't, I've spent a year in my own company and that was bad enough. Even our trek though the desert together was hardly a picnic. I'd go mad with no one but you to talk to and nothing worthwhile to do.'

            'So we let the humans kill us?' Knives hisses back, not even attempting to hide his anger, 'we let them inherit this dirt ball? We let them destroy it; turn it to dust and ashes like they did Earth? Do you want a world inhabited by nothing but spiders?'

            Vash shrugs, 'it doesn't have to be that way, that's what we're here for, see? To make sure it isn't. We can help people, we can guide them and teach them, and then we can make Eden for everyone! Even if we die, there'll be people to remember us and things, important things, which we'll leave behind!'

            His voice has risen with excitement as he talks, there is a joyful gleam in his eyes, but Knives can only scowl and shake his head, feeling a little sorrowful that he must pop his naive brother's bubble.

            'It doesn't work that way, Vash, it never has. Even if we accept them, humanity will never accept us. Besides, humans have used our people, have exploited Plants, for centuries, to them we are nothing. You can't change the ways of the spider, Vash, you've just got to squash it before it consumes the butterfly.'

            'Yeah, I've been thinking about that. See, I'm wondering… what's so good about the butterfly anyway?'

            'Excuse me?'

            'Well, think about it. What does the butterfly do? It just flutters around looking pretty. It's nice and all, but it hardly does much, it doesn't even live that long, and it only consumes resources when It's a caterpillar. The Spider now… that spins web after web, even when it breaks it just remakes it, spinning on and on until it makes itself a home. And the web stays around; you can get huge swathes of them after a few years, in fact. It catches not just butterflies, but pesky house flies too and there are many different species, all hunting and living in different ways. I mean, at the end of the day, if the Butterfly was so superior, why did it allow itself to be caught?'

            Knives blinks he can hardly believe he is hearing this, even from Vash, 'but… how can you argue that what the humans are doing to our people is right… how can you just stand by and-'

            Vash puts up a hand, 'I'm not,' he says, 'all I'm saying is that it isn't a good comparison. Yeah, the way humans are using Plants is wrong, but humans aren't spiders and we aren't butterflies. We're sentient creatures, Knives, we can talk this out. The Plants aren't going anywhere, they don't seem to be suffering too much, so let's find some common ground, find a way where both of human and Plant can live. If we look hard enough I'm sure there's a way to save us both!'

            Knives does not reply for a long while, his mind is consumed with the new ideas, the new concepts. He's never looked at it this way before, never considered things from such a view point. It's terrifying, wonderful, horrible and hopeful.

            'It's just a dream,' he says at last, his voice distant, 'just a dream, it'll never happen and fighting for it will probably get you killed, it's already cost you so much…'

            'Perhaps,' replies Vash, his voice grim and solemn, 'but I think I'd rather die in a dream than live in a nightmare.'

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Reader's replies!

Sorry this took so long in getting out, I meant to post it sooner… ah well.

Aoi: I'm glad this worked even though it was short. You're right… Vash should probably be more suspicious, but then he's Vash… don't worry though he won't be letting all his guard down or anything. And yeah, that was  a long sentence, but it worked! 

Silverarm: Yeah, they were longer than the actual chapter, so I'm going to make my responses a little short too. Sorry if this effects anyone badly. Again, I consider it a high complement that my characterisation is working! I hope you get chance to read this, and I hope you have a nice week for whatever reason you're away from the computer. Thanks for reviewing anyway, I really have appreciated your support in this!

Android 71: Really! Cool! Please, if you end up coming here let me know, I'm always eager to meet up with a prospective fanfiction reader/writer and Trigun fan!  Please keep on reviewing, I treasure all comments. 

Angelstryke: Personally, I rather like Rem, even if she is over perfect. But then we only really see her through Vash's memories, and he's bound to remember only the good things about her. Yeah, she messed him up a hell of a lot yet I suppose he wouldn't be nearly as interesting if he wasn't so messed up! 

Ron the Future Weasel: I'm patting myself on the back as you speak! Happy, happy me!!! The basic changing point in that chapter was not that he's changed his beliefs, he hasn't, but he's finally admitted that he will at least try to listen to what's being said. It's not much but it's a start… obsessed with Knives eh? Well, just don't cut yourself! Mama-Sama? Anija? Not read either of those authors, or I don't think so anyway. I'm gonna check them out now. I'm sorry but your link didn't work… I tried putting an extra ww in it, but it still didn't work… any tips? Thanks for the picture, anyhow.

ATO: Yeah, perhaps more than a lot of fandoms, Trigun fanficery seems to be stuck around a few ideas, which is a shame. There's so much more to explore, especially with some of the fascinating characters up for grabs. I quite fancy writing a small Legato fic at some point but I really need to see Trigun again before I do so, or I won't have a chance to 'understand,' him, or get his speech right. But thanks for the comment, it's good to know this is original without being boring.

Calumongal: Ooo, what a lovely long review! Well put by the way, I guess he did need to be worn down. And isn't wearing such characters down fun! Not like I like character torture at all, oh no, not at all… ahem… :blush:. Anyway, wow… that's two people who've learned to love Knives because of this fic, I feel so proud! Heh yeah, another good thing about villains is, like heroes, you can see yourself in them. You know? I wonder if anyone has explored the Knives/Vash reverse angle, I imagine so and I'd like to read it, so if you ever see it around let me know. And YAY, it's on another favourite list! This really rocks! Oh, and please not the flying monkeys… not the flying monkeys… AUGH NO!

Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews, and for such a short chapter :sniff: I feel so loved! You are best! PLEASE keep on reviewing, it makes me tremble with anticipation every time I go towards my computer! Thanks! __


	14. Day 170

Day 170

            He catches sleep when he can. Rest aids his recovery and there's not much else to do. Besides, even when he does sleep it is rarely as long or as restful as it could be. His conversations with Vash spin through hid mind and for the first time since he was small, the questions echo in his brain. Was I right? Am I right? They trouble him constantly, invading his dreams in the form of Rem, Steve and Vash himself.

            This night he awakens to the sound of the front door to the house opening and closing. He guesses Vash must have come back. Vash seems to have a job, though he has not mentioned what it is to his brother, Knives is sure it must be so because he now leaves the house at regular times. He feeds his brother breakfast, leaves, come home briefly for lunch then leaves again to return, finally, at roughly dinner time. Sometimes he is a bit late and Knives can tell by the scent of alcohol in his breath that he's been to a bar or saloon. Probably an after work drink with the other 'boys' or some such; he's never particularly drunk when he returns, merely a little tipsy at most. This is quite unusual for his brother, who has always had a bit of a drinking problem.   It's not that he drinks frequently; it's more that when he does drink he drinks a lot in one go. It seems that recently, however, he has managed to imbibe with moderation. Knives finds he is most glad of that, he does not think that he could handle a drunken Vash.

            Today though, things are different, very different.

            Knives can hear two voices in the other room. 

            So, it seems Vash has brought a spider home with him, Knives sneers and tries to repress a shudder, he prays Vash isn't going to make him talk to the disgusting creature.

            Never the less, he is interested in what is being said, so he pricks his ears, attempting to catch the strands of conversation in the other room.

            'Are you _sure?_'

            The spider is male, Knives can tell that much, probably an adult in his mid years. Anything more is impossible to discern.

            'Completely, totally, it was just all a little misunderstanding!'

            'Which he tried to sort out by pummelling your face in. Suuure Vash.'

            'Aw, come on, give a guy a break!'

            'Fine, but do you want me to at least get a doctor?'

            'It's just a couple of scrapes, I've suffered worse.'

            'Maybe but, damn, I worry about you, sometimes. You look after everyone, boy, who looks after you?'

            'Aw, I manage pretty well, if I do say so myself!'

            'Yeah, well, fair enough, if you say so. But if you do need anyone to talk to, or anything like that you be sure to come to me though, ya hear?'

            'I hear. Thanks.'

            'Good night kid!'

            'Bye!'

            The front door closes again and Knives leans back against his pillows, waiting for his brother to come in.

            The key turns in lock to his room, and Vash enters. Knives turns to him and, with difficulty, manages to keep his expression neutral. It is hard, though, for no matter what he has claimed he does dislike seeing his brother suffer needlessly, especially at the hands of those Spiders. If anyone is to make his brother feel pain, it is to be him. He is the only one worthy.

            Vash's face is a mass of scratches and bruises, his left eye is black and swollen, his lip is cut and his hair mussed. There's a small bandage round the top of his left arm. He's not too badly injured, but his hurts are obvious enough to make Knives wince.

            'Sorry I'm late,' he says merrily, as if nothing has occurred, 'I'll work on making food soon, how was your day?'

            'What happened to your face, Vash?'

            Vash blinked and to Knives' surprise, blushed, 'bit of a fight in the bar in town, but no one was hurt.'

            'Except you, I see.'

            'This isn't anything, you should know that! The worst of it was that I got some glass in my arm. I'll be fine in a couple of days.'

            Knives shrugs, knowing it's true. Both brothers heal fast, especially with small, insubstantial injuries. Yet it is not the injuries themselves that bother him, it is that the humans caused them.

            He considers bringing it up again, but does not. He knows it will simply be a repeat of the conversation they have had before, time and time again. Vash will not have changed his mind over a few small grazes. 

            'I'm gonna get dinner,' Vash continues after a moments silence, 'I'll come through with it soon.'

            He leaves, and Knives lies back down upon the bed, trying to hold in his seething anger against the filthy insects that have hurt his brother once again. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

NOTES: OK, this chapter might seem a bit strange, even meaningless, but it does have a point! Honest!

Reader Replies:

Silverarm: The spider/butterfly thing works just fine… when you're one year old. Let's not forget that, when Knives came up with this, he was young, very, very young. It does make some sense at a basic level but not much further, as I think I've displayed. As for the symbiotic/parasitc idea… well, I think in the Anime that might be true (it's never really shown) but in the Mana it's defiantly suggested it's the other way round for reasons I won't go into here. Note that this is set in Anime verse but still… Looking forward to your next review!!!

Ron the Future Weasel: Glad you like them arguing, there's gonna be plenty of it to come! How long before he changes? Well… you'll just have to see, won't you? Besides, who says he'll change at all? I give no promises! Nope, still no luck with the link. Sorry. 

ATO: That's OK, means I spend less time writing replies! Heh, no promises about the fic, I'm at a bit of a writing low point at the moment, and writing Legato is especially tough, but we'll see…

Aoi: Heh, logging in is good, we all like logging in… Humm, I don't know why I didn't give Knives a favourite food, he just didn't seem the type to be nuts on any one thing. I does have favourite foods, (I imagine he's very fond of coffee, for example) but I can't picture him going nuts like Vash or Millie. You might have a point about the chocolate though… but then who doesn't love chocolate? Yeah, he and Vash are destructive but, darn it, it's in the cause of defeating the evil already destroying the planet! You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs! (or that's his excuse, anyway!). Besides, he hasn't done anything humans haven't done, fight fire with fire, after all. It's all perfectly, horrifyingly logical. In a mad sort of way. And yes, if there were any female plants, as various fanfics have explored, we would all hate them. And besides, any female plant would sort of be like Knives's and Vash's sibling so mating would be… well… ick. 

Agnelstryke: Didn't anyone tell you that doughnuts make the world go round? Lol! Yes, that would be funny. Hummm…. Doughnuts are nice, especially fresh ones, you know that smell you get when they're first backed… mmmmm…. :Ahem: well, I'm happy you liked this chapter, people seem to have reacted well to the butterfly/spider discussion, I love butterflies but I wouldn't want to live in a world filled with nothing but them. Again, it's a theory that works well when you're very young, but to any mature person it's obviously flawed. I'm not so happy with the closing statement in a way, I think I've written far better in this story but there you go, I'm glad it worked for you. I hope this chapter proved just as entertaining! 

Android 71: Ooh, short and to the point! Well, I'm glad you're still enjoying this. If you don't want to review every chapter can you at least review it at the end? Thanks. I do hope you end up here! Good luck in your exams if they're not over already.

EmpressGalaxia: Yep, interesting and intelligent, that's the angle I was going for and yipeee! I hit jack-pot! I do love doing these little discussions, though I doubt the entire fic could be run entirely on them, I've given it a damn good go! 

Well, I hope to hear from you all in the next chapter, see you around folks! 


	15. Day 177

Day 177 

            Today there is a sandstorm. Even though he cannot see out of the window, tied to the bed by injury as he still is (though now only marginally) he can picture it battering the town, the sand cutting through cloth, vegetation, even flesh. Like a horde of daggers flying through the air to meet their target, like a million knives, a primal, avenging force of nature, unstoppable.

            It has kept Vash, and most probably everyone else in the town, indoors, they cannot work, play, or leave their houses until the storm is safely over. 

            So Vash sits with Knives and they talk, of matters big and small, past and present.

            'Sometimes,' says Knives, his eyes straying to the single window in his small room, 'I truly do pity the humans.'

            'Why?'

            'Look at this, the world they live on? It's a world of rocks, wind, dust, sand and heat. It's nothing, Vash, its hell. They went looking for Eden, they travelled millions and millions of light years across space, froze themselves for ridiculous amounts of time, desperately searching for Eden. And what did they find? They found hell.'

            Vash looks thoughtful, 'I don't know,' he says, 'it's not that bad. There are green bits there too, you've seen them. With a bit of work this world could become Eden.'

            Knives laughs hollowly, 'my dear brother, look what they did to their own world? That was Eden to start with and they turned it into hell! What makes you think they can do the opposite here?'

            'Humans can learn, Knives, the do learn. Well, most of the time anyway.'

            'Well, I've yet to see proof of that. Besides even if they did try, it'd take decades to turn this planet into anything remotely beautiful. By my estimations, even if work was begun tomorrow and all their resources were put into it, it could not be done before two hundred years was out. How many generations is that for Mankind?'

            'A lot, but it can be done. They went through so much to get to Eden; travelled for so long… a little more time won't make much difference.'

            Knives rolls his eyes, 'come now, you know as well as any that humans only look for short term solutions. They're so busy with their own small lives, trying to selfishly improve their own lot; they'd never consider working so hard for something they'll never live to see the results of.'

            'And you're any different? It's you who want to take the short cut.'

            'Vash, once again you're thinking with your heart instead of your head.'

            'Yeah, you should try it sometime.'

            Knives snorts, 'it's not about time,' he says, 'it's about probability, my way is the best, you'll see.'

            'Perhaps,' replies Vash, turning his head to the window, watching the sandstorm rage outside, 'it just seems a shame that, after all that way they came, to get to Eden, you don't want to let them get a little further. To give them another chance.'

            Knives shrugs and does not reply, he allows the howling of the sandstorm to do his talking for him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Reader Reviews.

Aww… only three… ): Ah well, here we go anyway. 

Ron The Future Weasel: Hah, got you all exited now. That link finally worked! Thanks very much it's a cool picture, and a very sweet version of Knives. I have a feeling Knives has typical sibling syndrome. My mum used to tell me that she regually tortured her little brother but she would stand by him no matter what if anyone else did the same thing. Odd… it makes me glad I'm an only child.

Silverarm: Yeah, it does go more into explaining Knives, I wish the anime had it in though I suppose it is suggested via plant meltdowns and so forth. As for sticking… I'm not sure. It will be more or less Anime, but a bit of Manga may creep in here or there. I hope this satisfies you, I would add more manga but, to be honest, I don't know it very well. I think events-wise this sticks pretty much to Anime, but personality wise it might lean more to the Manga, that's all I can say.

Aoi: You're entirely right, in every sense, but trust me it'll make sense later. Knives hatred seems to blind him to a lot of obvious things but don't worry, he WILL change during the course of this fic! Lol! It would have been funny if he'd brought home a real spider, and disturbing if it had talked back. Perhaps someone should do a Trigun/Bugs Life cross over, just for a laugh. /\_/\ 

NEXT CHAPTER: Knives walks! 

RnR!!! 


	16. Day 182

Day 182

            It doesn't hurt as much now. He'd like to think that this is because, like his brother, he is developing a tolerance for pain. This, perhaps, is partly true, but it is more likely that it is simply a sign of his recovery. 

            Vash helps him walk step by step around the room, holding Knives up by one shoulder.

            It hurts, his joints feel stiff from disuse as much as wounds, and every step is an effort. But he can stand on his own now, he can walk around with little difficulty, though he still requires the use of a handy wall or prop to keep him moving. His arms hurt, but he can move them well enough. Vash has given him exercises in stretching, moving, and making his disused joints subtle again. Knives promises himself that he will follow the regime religiously, he has no with to spend his life as an invalid.

            Vash buys him a stick from in town, which helps Knives hobble about the house. For the first time, with his brother, he is able to leave his room and explore the house at large.

            It is a simple place, there's a large living area combining both main room and kitchen, it is sparse but homely, lacking in ornaments but comfortable none the less. Knives, for once, approves. He has always disliked the clutter and redundancy of useless ornaments. 

            Just off the main living space is another bedroom, this one Vash's. There is nothing much remarkable about it; it is much the same as his own.

            There's also a bathroom, which brings a smile to his face, it will be good not to have to use a bed pan any more.

            There's a small cellar leading off from the Kitchen, too, but there is nothing much of interest down there.

            The only other door is the front door, which leads off the main room, and out into the world. Knives eyes it hungrily, and Vash looks at him in concern, no doubt guessing what he is thinking. Some things do not require telepathy.

            'Knives…' he begins, hesitantly, obviously not sure how to voice his concerns.

            'Do not be concerned,' interrupts Knives, 'I won't be leaving this place… yet. I'm not strong enough, as well you know. Both my mental and physical abilities are still too weak. If I tried to escape now you'd catch me before sundown. I'm not strong enough to run, I couldn't walk far, and driving is out of the question.'

            Vash manages a tiny smile at this, remembering, years ago when they were wandering GunSmoke together, his brother's attempt to ride a Thomas. He had turned out to be a worse rider than Vash, and that is saying something.

            'Never the less,' he says, reluctance evident in his voice, 'I don't want any trouble from you, Knives. So whilst I'm out I'm keeping you locked in your room. I'm… I'm sorry.'

            Knives shrugs, 'probably wise,' he says, moving into the kitchen area and examining the equipment 'I might try to hurt one your precious spiders, after all.'

            His next movement is quick, so quick it would be almost impossible to follow with the human eye.

            He picks up an object from a small rack on the kitchen counter and hurls it at Vash.

            The sharp kitchen knife embeds itself in the wall just behind his brother; it comes so close to hitting him that it actually shears a strand of hair from the top of his head.

            Vash watches in mute amazement as the strand of hair floats slowly down to the floor. There air fills with a humming sound as the knife quivers in the plaster.

            'Damn,' mutters Knives, massaging his shoulder, made all the sorer as it's the one which bore the infection all those months ago, 'sorry about that, my aim's a bit off. Guess you're gonna have to have another hair cut. You need one, anyway. I'm off back to bed.'

            With a quick, gleaming smile, he turns and hobbles back into his room, closing the door behind him. He is not surprised to hear Vash lock it behind him a few moments later.

            In the privacy of his room he grins. He has no real intention of hurting his brother, not at the moment anyway. He's promised himself he'll listen to what Vash has to say, promised himself he'll give his brother one last chance. Besides, in this condition he has no chance against his brother's skills, which are equal to his own.

            _Equal?_ says a little, private voice in his head, _or superior, he won, after all._

            No, no that was luck. Luck and overconfidence on Knives part, how was he to know that damn Cross Punisher was hidden in the sand? Really he had been the winner in that fight, but fortune, once again, had come through for his brother. 

            Still, it had been nice to be able to make his brother jump like that, been nice to feel the security of a knife in his hand. It had been good to show that the cat, sick at it was, still had claws.

            The question, which niggled at him and undoubtedly Vash also, was when and how it would use them?

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Review Replies…

Yay! Lotsa reviews! Happy Yma! Be warned though, the Easter holidays are upon me, and I'm going back home which will mean I'll have to post these from a different computer. What this will mean in the long term I'm not sure, hopefully nothing, but the chapters might be a little slower coming out. Still, every review it is treasured and the more reviews I get the more motivated I'll be to post!

Now… onto specifics… I'm going to make these a little shorter than usual because there's such a lot of you. Sorry.

Ron the Future Weasel: Heh, I agree, Vash really should slap Knives silly! :Fangirl giggle: I'm lad you're still reading, though I didn't realize you were a kitty… Sorry to keep you waiting again, the next one might be a little longer too, but not too long, so don't worry.

ATO: No problemo! I understand the time thing, makes your reviews all the more precious! It's a wonderful feeling, knowing I'm on so many people's favourites list. 

TerribleT: Ooooh! A new reviewer :glomp: will you be sticking around? Yeah… you have a point here… ah well, it's only one hole in my reasoning. I was mentioning it more to bring up the continuing issue of 'how far away is Eden?' question, and the vague irony. Suppose I should have thought it through more. Well, never mind. I hope you're still enjoying this!

Angelstrke: Firstly, love the fic you're writing now. Go read it people! It has an interesting story line! Secondly, yep, this is short to keep stop the dialogue from dragging, there's so many ideas I want to discuss, but one long conversation would just be dull. Hope the action in this chapter was a nice break. Thanks for finding time to review this time, please keep it up if you can!

(Oh, and hurry up writing that fic, I wanna know what happens next too, you know!

Android: So happy the interaction is working well, I love doing character stuff. And keep studying for those exams, you hear? A bit of hard work and I'm sure you'll get A+ in EVERYTHING! I've got my fingers crossed for you!

Aoi: Well spotted! I'm glad you noticed that reference. Yep, I'm sure that, with their knowledge and power Vash and Knives could make Gunsmoke an Eden, if they worked together. And you're right, the fact they're their on the first place is Knive's response, read my reply to TerribleT for grovelling. BTW, was the damage Knives did here good enough? He doesn't want to annoy Vash too much, but he wants to show he's still a force to be contended with!

Lady Zephyr: Another new reviewer! Double glomp! Oh yeah, don't worry plenty of trials ahead. And as long as you keep reviewing, come rain, snow, sleet, hail or nuclear war, I'll add! So stick around!  

EmpressGalaxia: Ooh, I've reduced you to simple sentences. Cool. But seriously, you've got in right on the nail, these are puzzle pieces and, hopefully, by the end they'll come together to create something more cohesive. Fancy sticking round to see what?

TheDreamsoftheDead: And a third new reviewer! Tri-glomp! (sorry, couldn't resist) Thank you so much for joining us, and for the complement! I like to think I'm making something… well… different. Though masterpiece is perhaps to grand a title (blush) I congratulate you that you've trauled  all the way through this, I was half afraid that the sheer amount of chapters behind me now would have put most perspective readers off. I'm very glad to see that's not the case. I hope you can review this chapter and those beyond it, nothing is more fulfilling than reading such lovely reviews. 

Well, that's it… see you next time when things take a slight different tone… when Knives meets, and talks to, humans… 


	17. Day 191

Day 191

            Each day is spent in training, Sit ups, push ups, jogging, stretching and any other useful exercises which come to mind he does diligently. Only stopping to eat and sleep when he can practice no more.

            The reasons for such exertion are many; firstly they are to rebuild his body, to get his muscles working again. Secondly they are good training techniques; he knows that Vash also performs such exercise, though only for three hours each morning, not all day like Knives.

            Thirdly it simply staves off boredom, after having spent approximately six months in bed, he is eager to be actually doing something. Besides, it is this or reading more of those trashy romance novels. 

            There are other reasons too, though. For a start the physical exertion keeps his mind busy, stops him from thinking, from pondering and worrying about what he has learned, what he has been told. This, to him, is most probably a good thing. It also leads him to sleep deeper, with fewer disturbing dreams, also a definite plus.

            He was just doing some press ups when he spies something most odd.

            A rod, with a long piece of string tied at the end, is being thrust through the single, small window of his room. At the other end of the string there is something... something dangling, shining. 

            Curious, he staggers up and moves towards it. It reminds him somewhat of a fishing rod, which was a piece of equipment people used on earth to capture small aquatic creatures. Knives has never seen one in action, but he heard of them from Rem. Undoubtedly this is working on a similar principle, and that thought makes him pause, he is being bated, after all. 

            He sneers at his own insecurity, foolish, he may be weak but even now he feels that, short of his brother and perhaps some of his old Gung ho guns were they still alive, there is none on this planet who could pose much of a threat to him.

            So he moves closer and examines the object on the end of the string. It appears to be piece of candy. Someone has already sucked on it, the transparent, sweet substance it is covered in sand and dust. He wrinkles his nose at it, why would anyone try to tempt him with _that?_

            Still, any opportunity for target practice…

            He picks up the candy and, with a smooth over arm motion, flings it and string back through the window. 

            The rod withdraws quickly and, pricking his ears, Knives can just about catch the sound of voices outside. Hushed and indistinct.

            He moves to the window, but it is too high for him to see out of. So he grabs the chair by his bed, the one Vash has used all these months and drags it underneath the porthole.

            Wincing a little at the pain in his legs, he manages to step onto it, giving himself elevation enough to comfortably see out of the window.

            What he sees makes him raise his pale eyebrows in surprise.

            Outside a triad of children stand around, gazing at the candy he has just thrown back and whispering amongst themselves. They are all rather grubby looking, but aside from that they seem healthy enough. The eldest is a dark haired boy, who holds the rod in his hands. On either side of him are two red-heads, of roughly the same age. They look rather similar, in fact, so similar the he is tempted to think that they are related. Siblings, most probably

            He cannot help but stare at them, he has not often seen children and he finds himself startled by the very size of them. They're so tiny, so delicate, the most perfect miniatures, he'd quite forgotten how deceptively beautiful they were. Yet, even as sweet as they appear, they would grow and twist, eating upon themselves, turning into adult spiders, sucking the life out of the very world that served as home.

            'Why d'ya think he threw it back, Paul?' whispers one of the red heads and from the pitch of the voice Knives suddenly realizes that it is female. The dirt, short hair and under-developed body structure made it hard to tell.  e Rea

            'Dunno, Jen,' replies the dark haired one, obviously the leader, he turns his eyes upwards towards the window and gasps. 

            He had been spotted. 

            Resigning himself to fate, Knives forces a cold smile onto his face. As much as he dislikes humans, he does bare some small tolerance for children. Not liking, per say, but recognition that they are not completely corrupt. Of course, as humans they deserve extinction, they will grow up corrupted after all, but in their present state they're not entirely despicable.

            He finds himself curious about them, about their motivations, the world in which they live. It has been over six months since he's talked to anyone except his brother, after all, it would not be entirely unpleasant to converse with someone else, even if it is a spider.

            'Crap,' mutters the other red-head, this one male.

            There is a long silence as the two parties regard each other, sizing each other up. On one side there is Knives, staring out of the window, with only his head visible. The wounds on his legs are becoming increasingly sore from standing in one position, but he ignores them. His gaze is fixed upon the trio of children, a small smile curls his lips, his eyes gleam cold in the sunlight.

            The expressions on the children's faces are a mixture of shock, terror and fascination. Though they undoubtedly lack Knives willpower, they make more than enough up for it in sheer curiosity. 

            The children are first to break, 'are you Vash's brother?' asks the oldest, dark haired boy, whom Knives guesses is the one named Paul.

            'I am,' replies Knives calmly, 'you know my brother well?'

            'Yep. He plays with us most mornings.'

            'I always get 'im in a head-lock,' pipes up the male red-head, grinning. 

            Knives manages to stop himself from sneering, Vash was always ridiculously soft and idiotic around children. Even more so than usual, that is.

            'Why were you throwing pieces of candy into my room?' he asks coolly.

            'We wanted to see you,' says Paul, equally nonchalant, 'we heard about you, heard you were sick, but ain't no one seen you never before.'

            Knives is just working his way round this particular case of grammatical confusions when the girl, Jen, says 'everyone reckons you're crazy.'

            'Really?' Knives doesn't even attempt to hide his grin now. It seems to unnerve the children.

            'Are ya?' asks the other red-head.

            'Am I what?'

            'Crazy?'

            Knives considers this question. It all depended on what one meant by 'crazy.' He supposed that, if one looked into the technical meaning of the term, as in one who was mentally abnormal, then it was perfectly true. There are very few upon this planet who think like him. However, by this term most of the greatest geniuses human kind had ever produced, (pathetic as they were, in Knives' opinion,) were also completely insane. Just because you were mentally abnormal did not mean you were _wrong_. He was sure he was right, after all and he was far more intelligent than these spiders.

            'No,' he says at last, with great surety in his voice, 'I am not. However I am… unwell.' 

            'Oh…' mutters Paul, sounding a little downcast for some reason, as if he had rather hoped Knives was insane, 'when ya' coming out? Is it contagious?'

            'What's con-tay-gee-ous?' whispers Jen to him.

            Paul is about to reply, but Knives does it for him, 'it means is it a disease you could catch. The answer is no. I merely am recovering from some injuries. I've no idea when I'll be out.'

            'Oh…' says Paul, shuffling his feet lazily in the sand. 

            'You sure you ain't crazy?' asks the other boy, sounding highly sceptical.

            He gets elbowed in the ribs by Jen, 'Roberto!' she scolds.

            'What do you think?' says Knives dryly.

            Roberto, as he now appears to be known, looks at Knives critically, as if trying to assess him through childish eyes.

            'You're alright,' he says at last, a note of serious approval in his tones.

            'So glad you think so,' sneers Knives, sarcasm dripping from every word.

            'Good!' obviously the child is too young to understand, the bullet of irony has flown straight over his head.

            Knives sighs and shakes his head, he begins to step down of the chair, the conversation is boring him now.

            'Hey, mister,' calls out Paul, 'where ya' goin'?'

            'Back to bed,' informs Knives coolly, 'I suggest that you keep this meeting a secret, unless you want to be punished. I doubt you have permission from your parents to be talking to a 'crazy' man.' 

            'Oh… OK. Listen, if you want, when you're well you can come play with us or something.'

            Knives snorts, 'I doubt it,' he says, and steps off the chair and out of their sight.

            A few moments later he hears the scuffling of footsteps on sand, they've obviously fled. 

            Alone once again he grins, he'd had a full conversation with a group of spiders and had not been particularly tempted to snuff out their pitiful lives. Wouldn't Vash be proud of him.

            He staggers to his bed, he'd been telling the truth. Standing in one position for so long, especially after heavy exercise, had caused his legs to ache abominably. He collapses against the bed and tucks himself in, sighing at the lack of pressure on his legs.

            He tries to banish the meeting with the children from his mind, but the memory stays there, stubborn as a Thomas.

            Had he ever been so innocent? Had Vash ever been so innocent? Oh, Vash acted like an idiot, he often _was_ an idiot, though not as much of one as he pretended to be. Sentimental? Yes, certainly. Innocent? No, Vash had lost that many years ago, Knives had seen to that. Or tried to. Yet he'd kept something, not so much innocence, not even hypocrisy, but a knowledge that, whilst he'd inadvertently caused much evil (or what he perceived as evil, anyway, Knives personally thought that a good spider was a dead spider,) he could amend for it by doing good, (again, a personalised concept.) It was a ridiculously self deluded way to live, but Vash seemed determined to go that way.

            Then again, stubbornness had also been a key part of his personality.

            It was one of the few traits they shared.

            Never the less, he had to envy him, on some level at least. To keep that amount of innocence, of purity when all about him a hell raged. To remain a child despite all he'd seen, all he'd suffered. 

            He almost wished he could have kept that innocence, also.

            He sneered to himself, he was being a fool. Vash's 'innocence' had caused him untold amounts of suffering, had caused him to tolerate the presence of these disgusting insects upon the face of the planet. What was he thinking like this for? It sounded almost like jealousy.

            Jealousy… was that why he'd acted as he had? Was he privately jealous of his brother? Is that way he wanted him to understand, to see and experience suffering, to take that innocence away from him. To remove the source of jealousy?

            No, no, he was being a fool and a far too introspective one at last. This was nothing to do with jealousy. Nothing at all. He was right, he was being sensible and practical and realistic, there was no reason for self doubt here. 

            Trying to hold onto that thread of security, Knives lay back and closed his eyes, looking for sleep.

            He soon found it, pain and exhaustion taking its toll on his injured body. His sleep was mostly peaceful and untroubled. Except for one, short dream, a dream of two, large, blue-green eyes, wide and sorrowful. Their childish innocence offended, muffled by some dreadful sight. 

            _Why?_ a small vice whispered hopelessly in the darkness, _why, Knives? Why?_

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

AT LAST! Sorry about the delay folks, moving computers and stuff! I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.

Reader's Replies:

TheDreasmOfTheDead: :Blush: oh, you are so kind! Well, that's as good away to read Fanfic as any. I'm glad this makes you think, I also like that in a Fanfic, and I've tried to emulate that here. I'm asking a lot of questions, and I'm trying to allow the reader to come up with their own answers. It's what good story telling is about, I think. 

Aoi: This, my dear Aoi, is what we call a plot hole. Sorry! But hey, cut a girl some slack, OK? Alright, here's an excuse… Knives probably has been practicing using his legs a little, but that chapter is just the first time he's been able to walk round more or less unaided. So his leg muscles haven't completely wasted away. Besides, he *is* a Plant and I'm NOT a doctor! Knives threw the knife because he wanted to regain some power, I suppose, to show he's not completely harmless. Remember, he's a proud and self reliant person, being cooped up in bed, almost helpless, has done him no good. As to what he was aiming for… well, only he (and I) know. And I ain't telling! Aren't I mean?

Silverarm: Hello again! I'm glad that chapter didn't disappoint, I sometimes go for the two steps ahead, one step back approach, because good ol' Knives is holding on very tenaciously to his values. If nothing else, he's stubborn, just like Vash! I hope you approve of this chapter too!

ATO: shounen ai fluff? In Trigun? WHERE? Lol! Glad to see you're enjoying this, sorry about the long delay in updating, like you I've been busy. And anyway, you've been helping the amazing Sailor Lilith-Chan (who kicks a$$ by the way,) write that fantastic fic known as The Message Boards. I love that! Please keep it up! Anyway, I don't mind short reviews at all, though I would like a long review of this when it's all over, if you can manage it. For now simply knowing that you're reading this is enough! Keep reviewing, no matter how short, it will be adored!

Ron the Future Weasel: I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Heh, I'm glad you liked the imagery here, I must confess it was one of those scenes that just jumped into my head and, when it was written, made me feel really smug. Ah, who knows what will happen when Knives is up and around… you'll have to read to find out!

Angelstryke: No problem! It's a great fic, as I hope my reviews have indicated, I'm eager for future updates. Heh, I think, with his lifestyle, Vash has already learned how to duck and run plenty well enough! It isn't as if he hasn't had much practice. I'm afraid we won't see any of Knives's riding abilities (he can hardly walk now!) I just dumped that in for a dab of humour, and to make him less perfect. Sometimes in fics, aside from his obvious flaws, he seems perfect, you know? I like the idea of him being weak in some areas too, just like Vash. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations, let me know either way!

TerribleT: Zoot? Oh yes, and after that the oral :AHEM!:  

Heh, thanks for the return glomp, why did Knives throw the knife? Well, read Aoi's reply for my answer to that, basically it's a confidence/power thing. Sorry to make this so short, but I if I keep writing such long replies I won't have room enough for story!

Oh yes and… NEEEEEEEE!

Lady Zephyr: And the winner for best line in the review's section goes too…

Seriously, thanks for that comment! But honestly, aside from all the deep, psychological/historical reasons for our dear Knives becoming a psychopath, I do think his name must have had something to do with it. I mean, what woman would name her child Million Knives? 

Next chapter… Knives meets more humans! Very special humans… be sure to stick around because it's gonna be a good one!


	18. Day 213

Day 213

            To him time has generally been a flexible concept. On the SEEDS ship it had mattered a somewhat, he'd had to keep time for the sake of Rem and the other humans. It was important to know when to eat, when to learn, when to rest. On GunSmoke, with the growing realization of what he was, who he was, things had changed. Time has little meaning to those who live outside of it. The passing of the days meant little to him, the passing of hours still less. He was not of the spiders; so eager to fill every hour of their little lives, striving for survival. He was a Plant, he did what he wanted, when he wanted, everything had a time and he would wait. He had learned to be patient, learned not to worry about the management of days and hours. 

The only reason he'd kept some semblance of time keeping was for his human servants, he found it good to be punctual in their case. 

            Now, however, he found himself wishing he had a watch.

            His brother had gone out as normal that morning, but had not returned for Lunch. As if this was not concerning enough, he was also late for dinner. Such behaviour, even from the occasionally sloppy Vash, was unheard of. 

            He lies back on the bed, pondering what to do. He is growing increasingly hungry.

            The door to the main room is still locked, so the kitchen is barred to him. He could, he ponders, probably break the door. He is strong enough for that, though only barely, yet that would result in some annoying explaining to do, if there was anyone to explain too…

            He shakes his head, dismissing this last thought. Vash is blocking him from communicating telepathically with him, yet Knives feels sure that, if his brother were in deep trouble or dead, then he would feel it. 

            Just then he hears the front door open. He sighs in relief and then scowls in anger, remembering his irritation at his brother's lateness. 

            Reaching to the side he picks up one of the dreadful Mills and Boon books.

            He throws it at the door as it opens, angling and timing it so that it would hit his brother straight on the forehead as he enters. 

            It does not, in fact, hit anything other than air, though this is nothing to do with Knives' excellent targeting skills. 

            The book sails over the head of the small, dark haired girl in white, in her hands she holds two, tiny guns. Derringers, Knives recalls them being named.

            The woman fires one of the guns and Knives ducks, barely missing a bullet to the head. 

            When he looks up the woman is snarling, an enraged, grim expression upon her face. She slips away one used gun and takes out another from her cape. 

            Knives almost expects her to fire again, and bunches his aching muscles to leap out of the way, to his surprise though she does not.

            'Listen Knives,' she spits, managing to put a fair amount of venom into uttering his name, 'Vash is indisposed. He sent me and my friend to watch over you-'

            'Hi Mister Knives!' piped up a voice behind her, and another girl, tall and brown haired leaned out from around the doorway. She smiles and gives a small, friendly wave, there is something in her eyes, an innocence, which reminds Knives of the children he met a couple of weeks ago, reminds him of Vash.

            '-and make sure you don't get into any trouble.' Continues the other woman, ignoring her friends interruption, 'so I'm gonna make damn sure you stay put. Vash thinks you won't cause any problems, but I don't believe it. So here's the deal. You move, I shoot. You say something wrong, I shoot. I feel you doing _anything_ to my head, I shoot. Hell, you even breathe wrong and I shoot. I don't particularly like hurting people, but I'll make an exception for you. Am I clear?'

            'Crystal,' replies Knives dryly, 'I don't suppose you'll tell me what exactly is occupying my brother?'

            'No.'

            Knives frowns and studies the woman further, there is something familiar about her and her accomplice… he searches through is memory, trying to recall…

Ah yes, he remembers now, from the reports sent to him by his Gung-Ho Guns, Wolfwood in particular, they'd told him that Vash had travelled with two women such as these… what were their names again?

            'It's nice to know Vash has such faith in you, Mary,' he hazards, 'to leave you alone with such a monster as I.'

            'Actually it's Meryl,' points out the tall one, 'and I'm Millie, you should really try to remember people's names better, it's polite.'

            'Millie!' scolds Meryl, obviously a little displeased that their identities are uncovered. 

            Knives allows himself a smirk, and settles himself down onto the pillows. His eyes do not stray away from Meryl, and the two strong souls set up a staring match.

            Their epic battle is only interrupted by a rumbling sound. 

            He blushes, and puts a hand over his belly; he tries to regain his lost dignity and fails miserably. 

            'I'm hungry,' he says to the two astonished women, there is no note of apology or request in his voice. 

            Meryl grins nastily, taking a smug pleasure in his predicament. Millie looks concerned, though.

            'Shall I get you some food, Mr Knives?'

            'Yes,' replies Knives gruffly.

            'Don't Millie;' snaps Meryl, 'he doesn't deserve it.'

            'But Mr Vash said we had to look after him,' says Millie sweetly, 'and that includes feeding him. I'll go and rustle something up now.'

            She bustles away, leaving Meryl and Knives alone. The two resume their staring contest.

            About half an hour later Millie comes back, in her hand she holds a bowl of hot stew, despite himself Knives eyes it hungrily.

            Meryl shifts uncomfortably, all that time standing and staring must be taking its toll upon her body.

            'Millie,' she instructs, 'take my derringer and keep an eye on Knives whilst I take a short break.'

            'But what about the food?' asks Millie, taking the derringer in her free hand.

            'Feed it to him later,' says Meryl as she leaves the room, 'the least the bastard deserves is cold stew.'

            For a while he tries to outstare her also, but she refuses to play the game, she merely grins at his hard glaring. 

            There is something odd about that grin, he thinks, it reminds him of some of Vash's grins. It is forced, pasted upon her face like a mask hiding her true feelings. On Vash that kind of smile is heart breaking, on a human it seems, to him, vaguely sinister. He finds he feels much more wary of this, tall spider than the dark haired one.

            'This is silly,' says Millie at last, 'I'm going to come over there and give you your stew, I'm sure you can move enough to eat it. But you've gotta promise me that you won't hurt me or try anything, because if you do then Meryl will probably have to shoot and kill you, which wouldn't be good for anyone. Alright?'

            Knives nodes his agreement, and Millie trots over, with stew and derringer in hand, though the gun lies limp, flaccid. 

            She hands him the stew and takes up the chair by the bed, the one Vash usually sits on. The gun now lies in her lap, by her neatly folded hands. 

            Sipping the hot stew, which is of reasonable quality, Knives continues to study the spider, sitting so quiet and composed, the false smile still plastered over her face. Her eyes strangely innocent yet strangely wise.

            'Do you hate me?' he asks at last, his curiosity overtaking him. 

            'No. Not really.'

            'Why not?' he asks, 'you know what I've done, what I can do, perhaps what I will do.'

            'Yes, but still don't hate you. Or I try not to hate you, anyway.'

            'Why?'

            'Because I've seen what hate does. I don't like you, Mr Knives; I don't think I ever will. But I think if I hated you then I'd have to kill you and that would just hurt everyone. Especially Mr Vash. He loves you, and I know what it's like to loose someone you love. If I killed you, if I hated you, I'd be just as bad as you are, or were. So just eat up your stew and then I can go away.'

            Knives blinks, and allows himself to look at Millie, really look at her. He sees it, the sadness, the bitterness, the inkling of hatred behind her wide, pale eyes. He picks up the stew and begins to quickly spoon it into his mouth; he did not look Millie in the eye. No sooner has he put down the bowl when Meryl comes back in. She scolds her companion for letting her guard down and shoos her away, taking up the seat in her stead.

            She tries to restart the staring competition, but Knives is having none of it, he watches the ceiling instead, ignoring her totally and allowing boredom and weariness take its toll. Soon sleep claims him and he is lost to dreams of Steve, Vash and the endless, twisting corridors of the SEEDS ship.

            Later he awakens, why he knows not. His sharp ears catch the sound of breathing, he opens his eyes a chink and, slowly, infinitesimally, turns his head so he can see to the side of him. Meryl is still there, though she too is dozing, her eyes half closed and the gun drooping in her hand.

            He ponders: he could kill her now. He pictures himself leaping out of the bed; he could probably simply grab her head and twist it round, breaking the neck. She'd most likely die without a sound then, moving slowly, quietly, he'd sneak out of the now unlocked room and use one of the human's derringers to shoot the other, tall human.

            He barely manages to keep himself from smiling at the thought, before closing his eyes once again and searching for elusive sleep.

_            'Smart move, Brother,' _says a voice in his head, and he knows it to be his brother, speaking to him telepathically after so many months. He must have returned at last, perhaps that was what awakened him.

            Not knowing quite what to think of Vash's approval, he resumes his search for sleep, soon finding it.

            It is morning now and when he looks to the side of him he sees not Meryl, but Millie. She has woken him up and stands before him with a bowl of steaming porridge in her hands. She passes it to him mutely and he begins to eat.

            'Vash is back,' she says, and he nods, indicating that he knows this.

            'He's very tired,' she continues, 'so we're going to be sticking round for the rest of the day to give him a hand, but we'll be gone by nightfall.'

            Knives chews on his breakfast thoughtfully, now she mentions it his telepathic voice had seemed rather weak and tired. It had been hard to tell as it had been so long since the twins had conversed that way.

            He finishes off his porridge and hands it to her; she takes it off him and rises to her feet.

            'Not going to say that it's been nice to meet me?' he asks sarcastically as she moves to leave.

            'I don't like to lie, Mr Knives,' she replies, 'I just hope that someday someone can say yes to that question and mean it. Goodbye.'

            She exist with this, closing the door behind her, once again Knives hears the key turning in the lock.

            He considers his predicament again, despite the heightened numbers in the house his chances for escape are some of the best they've ever been. Vash is obviously wounded, or at least worn out, and the two humans pose little threat to him.             Why is it, then, that he has so little desire to escape? Isn't this the moment he has been wishing for? Waiting for?

            He sighs again and leans back onto the bed, wishing sleep would claim him, wishing answers would come to him.

            The next person to enter his room his Vash, who is looking well enough if a little pale and drawn. Seldom has Knives ever seen him so tired.

            'I don't suppose you'll tell me what happened yesterday?' he asks.

            'Nope,' replies Vash, moving nearer and looking Knives over.

            'Have those other humans gone?'

            'Yep.' 

            'I don't want them to come back.' 

            'Neither do I, it was too hard on them. It was wrong of me to even ask them to look after you. It won't happen again.'

            Knives looks over to his brother in surprise, but can make nothing of his perfectly blank expression. 

            Knives might not be the most sociable of people, but he knows his brother well enough to know that his blank expression bodes something bad, very, very bad. 

            He decides not to ask what it is. He fears the answer too much. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Meh, not all that happy with that chapter. I'm not good at writing the girls. It's not that I don't like them, I do, I just find it hard to write them, to be inspired. Anyway, I hope their character weren't too off centre, please remember it's only a snap shot of them, not the whole story, if I was doing more I'd show Meryl's tender side and so forth. But anyway, on with the comments from the last chapter.

Reader's Replies

Silverarm: Yep, from now on there will be quite a bit more of Knives interacting with other people, I think he needs to. Thanks for the comment, I'll put it in mind but, to be honest, I'm not sure I can change much. I've real problem with Semi Colons, I just can't tell where they're supposed to go, and without a beta reader… :sigh: Well, I'll do my best, but you'll probably have to put up with them for a while yet. I hope the rest of the story makes up for it. 

Ron the Future Weasel: I'm glad there was no disappointment! Heh, it was probably him who told them about the fishing rods… seems the sort of thing he'd do. And yep, you guessed right! I hope this chapter wasn't… a let down? As I've mentioned I find Millie and Meryl very hard to write.

Angelstrike: Hello! How's the story going? Keep up with it! Heh, I thought that Knives would consider the question, as we must do too. In his own way Knives is very logical, more so than Vash certainly, but what's logical isn't always right. He does think in a different way too, but different isn't always bad. I think there's a high likely-hood that jealousy was a component in the equation, isn't jealousy part of almost any sibling relationship at some point? Did you guess who the special humans were? Heh, enjoy!

TheDreamsoftheDead: :blush: you know, if you keep this up my head will be too large to fit in the review section! Seriously, you've being very nice! And I'm very glad the images are working, I sometimes wonder if I do have a problem with description… please keep up the comments and reviews, I love them all!

Aoi: No! Don't apologise, it's things like that which are useful to me! They remind me to be more careful! I'm not saying swamp me with negative criticism, but careful comments like that, pointing out the odd flaw in my writing is one of the most useful things a reviewer too. So long as you balance it with praise, criticism is a great gift! I hope the children here weren't too annoying, and yes they will be back, though don't expect them to take a huge roll, and certainly they won't be back for a while yet. And yes, you bet right! Have a cookie! 

ATO: Heh, to be honest I'm not a huge fan of Trigun slash either. There's a couple of pairings I find semi believable, but on the whole I just look at it for the novelty. I'm not a huge fan of V/W either, nothing against it, we all bring out own interpretations to a cannon, but it's just not my scene. Heh, I'm looking forward to the letters update, BTW, send Lilith-Chan my regards! Oh yes, and again, thanks for the comments on my character work, I hope I managed to capture some spark of Millie and Meryl here!

TeaRoses: Hello! Welcome aboard! I don't know when you'll get to this chapter, but when you next post a review I'll give you a better reply, I don't want to spoil anything for you now. Thanks for the remarks on my Knives characterisation, BTW, I take it as a deep complement!

Other notes: A few other thins, 1: I might change the "stable" part of the summery soon, I don't know if it's a good idea… but it might attract more readers… Also, I've been working on some short Trigun stories. So keep your eyes out! I'm just debating whether to post them separately or in one huge collection…

Next Chapter: Knives leaves the house and goes out on the town! Let's just hope he doesn't paint it red…


	19. Day 225

Day 225

            It is good to ware proper clothes again, not that he really classifies these as real clothing, not like his uniform from the SEEDS ship, but it is better than the pyjamas he's donned these past months. 

            They are more similar to the clothing worn by Spiders. A pair of faded jeans, a cream shirt and a blue waistcoat, edged with white. 

            They are gifts from Vash, along with a pair of hardly, brown boots. He can tell what these signify that, after many, many days of captivity, Vash is finally allowing him to go out. Accompanied, of course.

            Vash has been nervous about it all day; it is readable in his jumpy actions, the way his eyes constantly shift to Knives, studying him when he thinks he isn't watching. 

            It is just before lunch when Vash says what Knives has long expected, 'how would you like to take a walk outside today, Knives?'

            Knives shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. He has mixed feelings in the matter; he desperately wants to leave the confines of this house, to taste something like fresh air upon his tongue, to feel the wind against his skin. 

            Yet going outside means being around the humans, around the spiders, facing the filth he has long come to detest.

            Vash seems to take the shrug as an agreement, he takes the new boots and helps Knives put them on, then leads his semi-healed brother to the front door.

            'Aren't you going to give me my cane?' asks Knives.

            'You can lean on me,' is the reply Vash gives.

            He represses a bitter smile, of course, without his cane he cannot walk or run on his wounded legs steadily or without fear of tripping over. What slender hopes of escape he might have tended are gone instantly.

            He totters out with his brother, leaning on Vash's arm. As they step onto the porch, he blinks in the sunlight, his eyes quickly adjusting.

            The town looms around him, its daubed walls gleaming in the sunlight. It's not a particularly large or new town; it's probably little more than a village. There are a few people bustling around, though not as many as he'd expected. This is something he is supremely glad of.

            Vash leads him down the steps of the wooden porch and down the street. He nods and waves to the people he passes, smiling and exchanging casual greetings.

Knives remains silent, he keeps his ice blue eyes ahead, trying to ignore the spiders and their inane mutterings. 

            They make an odd couple, he thinks, one sublimely miserable, the other ridiculously merry. 

            At last they come of a destination of sorts, the general store. Vash mutters something about procuring some more supplies and enters, Knives still on his arm. 

Together they look around, or rather Vash does, Knives simply tries to ignore the surroundings, tries to pretend he isn't even there. The proximity of so much trash is disgusting and being forced to lean on his brother for support is simply degrading. He can feel his temper fraying, his limbs becoming weary. 

            After wanting to be out of the house for so long, he cannot help but wish he were back in it. Anything to get away from the curious, prying eyes of the humans as they stare at him and his brother. 

            On the way back from the store Vash keeps commenting on stupid, inane matters, pointing out general members of the populace as he does so. The fact that Mrs McCarthy is looking after Mrs Tailor while she recovers from her illness, that it's only two days before little Timmy's birthday, that Mr Drake is selling very cheep cloth, that Sara and Karl are bound to be married soon (with or without their parents permission.)

            Each time he tells the story, each time he gestures to a face, Knives looks deeper, makes his own meanings.

            Mrs Tailor is probably stealing from Mrs McCarthy's home, or hoping for a larger cut of the will when she dies. Timmy has been screaming for a toy for ages, he now sulks behind his angry father; whose fists clench and unclench spasmodically. Mr Drake is undercutting the competition, his business will probably thrive whilst the tailors next to him will dwindle and die, leaving its owner destitute. Sara thinks she has found love with Karl, but most likely he will abandon her as soon as he's enjoyed her, if she doesn't leave him for some wealthier, more handsome man.

            The real, solid truths hidden behind the bubble of sentimentality.

            They are walking back towards home when Knives sees it, the huge bulb of the plant, looming in the distance. 

            Of course, he should have expected that a town like this, a prosperous, well made settlement, would have a plant of some sort.

            Vash catches his glare, 'don't worry, it's well looked after.'

            'So you say,' sneers Knives, and he has to hold off the anger that boils within him, the sight of such insects, such filthy pestilence swarming, living off such a beautiful creature is repellent in the extreme. 

            It's a symbol of all he's come to hate.

            When at last they reach their home and Knives is back, sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee, Vash finally seems to understand his feelings.

            'I know today was hard for you,' he says, he does not look Knives in the face.

            'It was appalling,' snaps back Knives, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. He feels loathed to grant his brother any emotion, any reaction right now.

            'Please Knives; you've got to give them a chance. I know it's hard for you but-'

            'You know nothing!' hisses Knives, 'you're blind, my brother, completely blind!'

            'Funny,' mutters Vash, 'I was just gonna say the same thing about you. I know you hate to go out, but you do need some fresh air, Knives, it'll help your recovery.'

            'Then you can take me out onto the porch each evening, I don't ever want to go into that town with you again!'

            'Alright… I won't take you out there again, not until you're ready. But you can't hide from humanity forever.'

            'I've no intention of that; I intend to squash them, someday. I'm certainly not afraid of them.'

            'Really? You could have fooled me.'

            'I hate them!'

            'Hate often comes from fear.'

            'Oh shut up you idiot,' Knives sighs at last, 'and make me another cup of coffee.'

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Reader Replies…

Ron The Future Weasel: You have no idea how much your comments reassure me, and that goes for everyone. I was really worried I'd done badly with the girls. Will we find out where Vash went? Well… kinda. It will be explained but don't expect a huge deal to be made of it… darn, if I'd known that was such a good plot hook I would have used it better… Oh, I now have images of  Knives walking round like a dog, on all fours, with Vash leading him around on a leash. It's a fun image, thanks! I hope this chapter lives up to it.

ATO: Interesting pairing there… I'm not a big pairing person to be honest, I've hardly ever written any romance. I've just written a short Vash/Meryl fic, but that's it as far as Trigun goes. I kind of like the 'cannon' pairings, as well as Knives/Legato and :coughKnives/Vashcough: but that won't be seen here! :sweat drop: And damn, no Milly Sue? Awww… that's the rest of the entire story, don't you know? JUST KIDDING!!! Nope, that won't be happening here, thank god. It's a sweet pair, but not for me. I agree, Knives is a loner more or less, but then in my mind, so is Vash… but let's not give too much away.

Angelstryke: Thanks for the glomp! I'm happy that the Meryl's 'shoot' speech worked, I thought it was kind of funny and it was the sort of thing she'd say probably. Though she's a bit hostile, she was in a… unique situations. Yay! New chapters of your fic! I love it! Go check it out people! It's rather good…

Aoi: Once again, thanks for the support! I'm glad I got those two right. Enjoy your cookie, BTW, and you'll find out more about what Vash was doing later, but please don't expect it to be all that dramatic, sadly it isn't. I feel so guilty…

Communist Penguin: Nice name! I'm so happy you could join us! Please keep reviewing, I treasure every single review, you know! All of them! :grin: 

Once again thanks for all the reviews! Ulp… sorry if I've missed anyone… I'll check and if I have I'll answer your review at the end of the next chapter… BTW… here's some incentive to review. 

I've finished a lode of short stories, if I get to over the 100 mark on my reviews this chapter, I promise to post a short story as well as the next chapter! It'll either be a short Wolfwood angst story or a semi-funny Vash and Knives story. Feel free to state any preference in your review. So get reviewing people!!!

Next time… Knives makes dinner, plays solitaire and meets another human… 


	20. Day 252

Day 252

            He is pondering whether or not to abuse his new freedom.

            Recently Vash has stopped locking him in his room, now he has free access to the rest of the house. The front door remains locked, of course, but it would not be so difficult to escape via the windows. His limbs are still stiff and sore, but he can move them well enough now. He can walk without the aid of a stick, though he needs regular breaks and occasionally something to lean against. He has a pronounced limp, but he knows that will fade with time.

            He could, he knows, escape any time he wishes. 

            The thought is certainly appealing, there is probably a sand steamer or a bus near by which he could catch and use to get to another city, it might involve stealing some money but that is hardly a challenge. Once he was away from this town he is sure he could use methods to ensure that his brother would never find him again, unless he wanted to be found. 

            Yet he remains here.

            He is not sure why he does so, but there is something about this place, about this situation which appeals to him. Perhaps it is his sense of morbid curiosity, the same thing which drove him to read the gruesome history banks on the SEEDS ship.    Perhaps it is the newfound relationship between him and Vash for, whilst they certainly aren't best friends again, there is some spark of love between them. They can talk more comfortably, interact smoothly, they are as close as they have been since Vash first shot Knives after his use of the Angel Arm.

            Perhaps it is mere laziness, he has finally grown used to the good life and cannot be bothered moving. 

            The problem is; he has a sneaking suspicion that it is none of these things. He thinks it might be that some of Vash's preaching might be affecting him. He worries that, after over a century of hatred, he's finally starting to tolerate the humans. 

            It is a hunch which confuses and frightens him beyond measure.

            Yet he promised himself he would give this a try, he would listen to his brother and he has done, he will do. The difficulty is that he never expected his brother to say much worth listening _to._

            His brother is late tonight, and so Knives has started work on dinner ahead of him. There aren't any blades shaper than a butter knife in the kitchen; Vash has made sure of that, but Knives make-does anyway. 

            Besides, he thinks as he uses the butter knife to cut the vegetables, it's not as if there aren't other things around the house that can't be used as weapons. Even a pencil can kill, if one jams it through a human's eye. 

            He sneers, humans are such frail things.

            He puts the last ingredients into the pot and sets it to boil. Tonight he's making a stew, he's sure it will turn out well as he's followed the recipe exactly. Knives always follows recipes to the letter and unlike is brother he rarely experiments. 

            Vash is always trying new things out, most of the time they are edible (even if they don't look it) and occasionally they are delicious. Knives prefers to do things but the book, however. This stew will be nothing spectacular but it will be good enough to eat. He can have it as soon as it is cooked and his brother can reheat it whenever he gets back. It is somewhat unusual for him to be this late…

            His concern grows as the minutes tick by. He tries to distract himself with games of solitaire but it doesn't really help.

            He considers sending a message telepathically but quickly denies himself, he will not show apprehension, will not show weakness. 

            For a moment his fears are assuaged by a knocking at the door. He frowns, it cannot be his brother as Vash would just let himself in, and no one, in all the time Knives has been here, has ever knocked at the door. 

            Driven by curiosity he stalks towards the door, wondering who could be on the other side. The question of whether or not to let them in seems moot, the door is locked.

            Never the less, perhaps out of some brief rebellion stirring in his heart, Knives tries to open the door and is shocked when it does, in fact, open!

            His idiot of a brother must have forgotten to lock it today!

            Before he can stop himself Knives has the door wide open and is staring at the brown haired spider outside.

            He is quite a tall man, not as tall as Knives or Vash, but lofty none the less and quite well built.  

            He seems somewhat off put by the speed with which Knives opened the door, but soon collects himself.

            'Hi,' he says, 'I'm Pete, are you Mr Knives?'

            'I am.' Replies Knives coldly.

            'Well, I was just in the area and um… I thought I'd pop in to let you know that, uh, your brother, Vash, he'll be late back from the Plant tonight. One of the late shift boys is off ill and so he's taking over for a while. Alright?'

            Knives frowns: so that's where his brother has been working, the Plant. It makes sense, he supposes, but he cannot help but feel some disgust that his brother would partake of the enslavement of their race. 

            He turns to regard the nervous human again, 'I understand,' he says and then, as an afterthought, 'why did you come here to tell me anyway? There is nothing for you to gain out of this.'

            The man shrugs, still looking uneasy, 'I just figured that you might feel a bit worried and lonesome, on your own and all. Sorry if you take offence, I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy.'

            'You came because you were curious,' says Knives, 'you heard there was a madman living here and you wanted to gawp at me, correct?'

            The human snorts derisively, 'hardly,' he says, 'I admit, I had heard you were bonkers and I still ain't sure your right in the head. But Vash seems to think your safe enough to leave on you own, so I figure that you can't be that cuckoo. If you were, I wouldn't be riskin' my skin like this.'

            Knives blinks, he hadn't expected such a brutally honest answer.

            'Say,' exclaims the man, cutting Knives off before the first words of his retort can come to his slack jawed mouth, 'do you smell something burning?'

            'Crap!' hisses Knives, 'the stew!'

            He runs back into the main room and the kitchen, towards the hob where the stew is bubbling over and burning. He turns the hob down and shoos away the smoke that has been accumulating over the blackened pot. 

            'Damn, it's ruined!' he cries, cursing his own inattentiveness.

            'Don't look too bad,' says a voice behind him, and he turns to see that the spider, Pete, has followed him in, 'the edges are burned, sure, but most of it looks edible.' 

            Knives' eyes narrow in silent accusation, Pete gets the message.

            'I just came in to make sure everythin' was alright,' he says, putting his hands up in a peace making manner, 'check nothing was on fire. Looks like you had a close one, but as I said; at least the stew ain't entirely ruined.'

            'Of course it's ruined,' snaps back Knives, 'what would you know!'

            'More about cooking than you, it seems. Go on, give it a taste.'

            Scowling, but determined to prove this annoying human wrong, Knives picks up a wooden spoon and, from the centre of the pot, spoons up a bit of stew and tastes it.

            It doesn't taste all that bad. 

            Pete grins at the shock in his eyes, 'told you so,' he says somewhat smugly, his eyes glance round the large room quickly, taking in the sights whilst Knives removes the pot from the stove. 

            He glances at the game of solitaire left half finished upon the kitchen table, 'you play cards?' he asks, lazily putting the queen of harts onto the king of clubs. 

            'I do,' replies Knives icily, he is growing increasingly annoyed and irritated by this human, so casual and plane spoken. 

            'Want a game?'

            'Excuse me?'

            'A game of cards,' Pete clarifies, 'I ain't got nothing better to do, and it'll be a while before Vash gets home. I'm guessing you're pretty bored too, so why not while away a few hours playing a game or two?'

            For a moment Knives is tempted to tell this annoying insect exactly where he can stick his cards. Then he rethinks, he had no real idea when Vash will be back and boredom does indeed weight upon him terribly. What could be the harm of it, after all, to have a quick game of cards with this human? He did help save Knives' food, after all and it would make an interesting study into the further flaws of human existence. 

            'Very well,' he says, drawing himself up a seat by the table, 'what game would you like to play?'

            The next few hours pass in a strange manner. They play many games, only breaking briefly for Knives to eat his stew. Most of them Knives wins, though in Pete he does find a challenge. Something he had hardly expected. 

            Pete, for all his appearance, is actually quite intelligent and refreshingly plane spoken, he tells it as he sees it. Knives learns much of the outside from him.      Apparently they are in a town called Angel's Rest(1), which is fifty Illes from January. Both Pete and Vash work in the Plant, which supplies Angel's Rest with all it needs, strangers are not uncommon in the town, though they rarely stay as long as Vash and Knives. Angel's Rest is a stable town but not a growing one, the plant can only provide for so many people and water is still a problem. He also mentions that, recently, there were some problems with the Plant which Vash somehow fixed. This probably explains where he was, those few nights ago, when he sent Meryl and Millie to baby sit him.

            It has been a good few hours since Pete arrived, and the night is getting late, when the door opens again and Vash returns. He looks exhausted and is whining to himself under his breath. When he sees Pete and Knives playing cards at the table, however, the look of complete shock upon his face is almost comical. 

            'Hi Vash,' says Pete, getting up out of his chair, 'thought I'd pop round and keep your brother company, hope you don't mind.'

            'Not at all,' replies Vash weakly.

            'Good. Well, I'd best be off then. It's been nice meeting you, Knives; maybe we can do this again?'

            He holds out his hand for Knives to shake, Knives declines it, but gives a nod of approval.

            'Yes,' he finds himself saying, 'I would like that.' 

            'Great, I might come round tomorrow evening then. See you around!' 

            He waves and departs, closing the door behind him. 

            'Knives…' mutters Vash, still stunned. 

            'I'm tired, there's some stew on the side,' says Knives, ignoring his brother and getting up, moving towards his room, 'you'll need to reheat it. The edges of it are burned, but the insides are actually rather good.'

            And with this he retires to bed, undoubtedly leaving questions ringing round Vash's head. Questions to which not even Knives himself has all the answers. 

(1) An appropriate name, no? A little corny but I thought it fitted, it's actually taken from a town name computer game called Exile III by Spiderweb Software (Or Avernum III, both are good.) I recommend both of them highly.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Notes: Meh, I didn't reach 100, but I posted the short story anyway. Look it up, it's called Chess and it's about Wolfwood. 

Reader's Replies: 

Chibi Nataly: Wow, I'm so glad you like this. You know, every review helps, every review encourages me to write more and write better. So please, keep it up! I'm so happy you're enjoying this!

Grace: Thanks for the comment on Millie. I really like her character, to tell the truth, out of all the characters on Trigun, including Vash himself, she's the one I'd most like to be. Tall, nieve but with some wisdom to her. 

Ron the Future Weasel: Well, if I could draw I would do fan art of that. You've read this chapter? Funny how you guessed bits of it, like the burning and the solitaire. I loved the way you said 'Who did Vash drag of the Stree this time,' it sounded like just the sort of thing Knives would say. You can just picture his look as Vash drags in this random ho-bo… lol! Yep, I'm going to try to update pretty often, though it will depend on circumstance!

The DreamsoftheDead: Sorry if the bribery thing insulted you… I didn't mean it to. I hope the story makes up for it. Again, thanks for the plot hole thing, it's nice when people notice this stuff, shows they're paying attention. I'd read and review your other stories, but I'm afraid I'm not into the fandoms you write about really… sorry… :blush: but I'm sure your writing rocks! Is one of the stories you're working on a Trigun story? I look forward to it, you sound like a very conscientious writer.

Angelstryke: Heh, I must keep up these blurbs… the idea was that Knives, even now, still isn't listening. He's looking at the humans with a closed mind, not an open one as Vash wants. He's only seeing the bad, just as Vash tends to only see the good. But I'm glad this worked, anyway. 

Aoi: Heh, you've got a point there. Perhaps there's some deep Freudian thing going on with those outfits… makes you wonder… Yes, I think Knives is defiantly afraid of humans on some level, rightly or wrongly. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations again!

Communist Penguin: It did seem a very Knives-ish line to say, I can picture him and Vash in that kind of relationship. It's scary… in some strange way I think Knives is a little like Wolfwood… but that's a theory for another day…

ATO: Yay! I'm still in character! Excellent, that's what we want to here! As requested, the angst story is up, I hope you can find time to review it. 

OTHER NOTES: Boy… that was a lot of reviews. Thanks guys, and sorry to those I missed out last chapter. I also apologise for the OC, but he's necessary, please let me know if he's annoying or anything. I'm not intending for him to be but… well… fingers crossed. Also, I've recently seen the episode Rem Severem again for the second time. Great stuff, gave me loads of new ideas and psychological info on our dear Knives. I also came to realize something else… I was wrong, Knives does have a favourite food. It's apples, he's very, very, very fond of apples. Just so you know. :nods: 

NEXT TIME: Knives learns something about his new Pete, something that could catapult him into a more forgiving attitude to humanity… or send him straight back into rabid hatred… 


	21. Day 269

Day 269

            It's odd how easily habits can be formed and changed, even if the same is not necessarily true for opinions.

            He still hates humans, he tells himself this, tells his brother this, he feels it in his bones and yet… and yet…

            Twice a week, every week, Pete comes to the door of their small home and enters freely to play games of cards, chess, and checkers with Knives. Vash has taken on a couple of late shifts, so it is good to have the company, inferior as it might be.

            Despite himself, Knives finds himself looking forward to Pete's company. He puts it down to loneliness, yet he knows this is a poor excuse, he's been alone all his life, why a sudden craving for company? Least of all a spider's company.

            Yet this spider is… refreshing. He doesn't talk much unless invited to and when he does he speaks plainly, simply, not mincing his words or sugar coating the situation. Knives understands the trap he is fallen into, sees the spider spinning a web of companionship around him. Each day he tells himself he isn't enjoying this, not really, he's only doing it for his brother's sake, that's all and for his brother… he can give this up any time he wants to…

            Indeed, he's tried several times, promising himself that he'll shoo Pete away as soon as he gets to the door, that he'll make some excuse about being busy, that he simply won't answer Pete's earnest knocking.

            Yet, each time, he finds he cannot resist, like a moth drawn to an electric light bulb, he opens the door and invites Pete in, then sits down and plays games until the late night, when Vash returns home. 

            At first it frightened him, now he is numb to it, trying not to think about what he's doing. He allows himself to be drawn into the rhythm of the days, the simplicity of his time with Pete. 

            One night Pete comes round with a small bottle of whisky under his arm. Knives eyes the bottle suspiciously, wondering what it bodes. 

            'Thought I might bring round something for us to sip on,' says Pete merrily, for he too has grown more comfortable in Knives' presence, 'should make the evening pass quicker, not that they don't pass fast enough already.'

            They move into the main room and Knives starts setting up a game of chess. It's one of Knives' favourite games and short of Vash, Pete is possibly one of the best players he's ever encountered, though every time he beats him. 

            'Great,' grunts Pete, putting the whisky bottle on the table with a clunk and sitting down on the chair, 'chess again.'

            'If you'd rather play something else…'

            'Nope, I'm learning your strategy, boy, I'm getting better. Won't be long before I beat you, you just wait and see!'

            Knives smiles, both at being called a 'boy' and at the suggestion Pete will ever beat him. It is impossible; he is of an inferior species. 

            He takes up the seat opposite Pete and makes the first move. 

            He's playing white, as he always does.

            'You want some whisky?' Pete asks, proffering the bottle and a small glass.

            Knives considers, 'alright,' he says, feeling somewhat magnanimous, 'but only a small amount, I dislike the stuff.' 

            Pete nods and pours him a tiny amount of whisky into his empty glass, barely enough to coat the bottom. He pours a more generous amount into his own shot glass. 

            Knives sips it, privately wishing is was red wine instead and winces at the taste. It's not quite as bad as he recalls, it is drinkable but hardly pleasurable. The alcohol sears his tongue and throat; he can feel it slipping down into his belly, soaking his breath, he wonders, not for the first time, how his brother can drink the stuff. 

            Pete takes a sip of his own glass and moves a black pawn in retaliation. The game begins.

            A few hours later and Knives finally has his opponent in check mate. Pete sighs and knocks over the black king, admitting defeat.

            'Damn,' he sighs, 'I'll beat you yet, but it's sure hard. You're one hell of a player.'

            'Must be something to do with being insane,' replies Knives, he has had two tiny glasses of whisky, not enough to get him drunk but surely enough to make him a little tipsy, to loosen up his tongue. He has not developed a strong tolerance for alcohol.

            Neither has Pete, it seems, as he is in a similar state as Knives, though to be fair he has imbibed quite a bit more.

            'Ah, I don't recon your crazy no more,' says Pete with a dismissive hand gesture.

            'Implying that you once did think I was insane?' Knives retorts, pouncing on the statement.

            'Heh, I suppose I did once,' laughs Pete, 'most people did once, what with you being kept in here and there being sounds of screaming comin' out now and then. Yeah, once I thought you were crazy, then I looked into it a bit, thought about it and changed my mind, got a better perspective. Vash taught me that.'

            'He spouted off philosophy at you too, then?' asks Knives bitterly, 'my brother has a way of doing that, a way of creeping into peoples hearts…'

            'Hardly!' laughs Pete, 'tell you the truth, and I don't mean no disrespect, but when I first met him I hated his guts!'

            'Really?' asks Knives, feeling surprised, curious, happy and over all, intrigued. 

            'Hell yeah,' continues Pete, 'see, when he first came to the Plant, when I first saw him, I thought to myself: this guy; no, this kid; is a complete goof, an idiot, he's gonna be fired within a week, if he don't bring the Plant down around us first. I mean, he seemed completely incompetent.'

            'Yes,' mutters Knives, 'he has a way of doing that.'

            'Right; and I don't handle incompetence well. See… look, this may sound a little silly to you, so you're just gonna have to take my word for it, but in my experience every plant is like a lady.'

            Knives' ears pricked up at this, he found himself watching Pete intently, listening to his every word, fascinated.

            'Or like a person, leastways,' continues Pete, oblivious to the heightened attention of his audience, 'probably goes back to that story about there being creatures inside 'em. Now, I ain't exactly sure that's entirely true, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. You've gotta know how to take care of them. For example, the Plant I worked at down at January, she was a fighter; you gotta be firm with her, but fair. Gotta know when she's givin' you all she got, or when she's just sulkin' over something, then you gotta coax the energy outta her. The plant here, on the other hand, pheeeeww! She's a delicate little thing, you gotta keep her happy or she'll throw a temper tantrum, then you'll get energy spikes all over the place. She needs a gentle, calm hand does our Angelica.'

            'Angelica?' echoes Knives, unbelievingly. 

            'Yeah, Angelica, after Angel's Rest. The Plant I worked on back in January was called Jane. Anyway, as I was sayin', I saw Vash and I thought that the goofball wouldn't last a week, didn't look like he had any idea how to treat a Plant properly, how to take things seriously. Now, at the time I was workin' the late shifts, whilst he was doin' the day shifts, so I didn't get to see him at work. But imagine how surprised I was when I learned how well he was doin'! There were talk of him bein' promoted to foreman. I gotta say; I was mad. I was kinda hopin' for that job, see, and the fact he was doin' so much better, was so much younger, well… I have to say, I was getting jealous.'

            Pete takes another sip of his whisky then continues, 'I had a hint he might be abusin' the system, you know? 'Cos one way of gettin' Plants to work better is by adjusting the amount of hydrogen in the bulb. It's a long story 'bout how it works, but basically you don't put enough in an' it kinda… I dunno, give them a shock. They work better for a while but tend to break down later. Ain't too good for them.'

            'Like beating a slave,' suggests Knives, his voice low and grim, 'using pain to make them work harder.'

            'Never really thought of it like that,' admits Pete, 'but yeah, I guess it is. Anyways, I weren't happy. This all comes to a head a few months ago, down at the bar. I'd had a bit to drink, I gotta say, I ain't normally a violent man, dead set against it I am, but that night I guess it all just came to a head. Vash was with his buddies and they were just goin' on about how well the Plant was doin' since he came along and… well… I guess I kinda lost my temper.'

            'Lost your temper?' echoes Knives, prompting him to continue.

            Pete blushes and rubs the back of his neck, 'yeah,' he says, 'I started a brawl. Hit him around a bit, broke a beer glass round his head. He didn't fight back much, and he was pretty beat up by the end of it. Not that I think he's a wimp, mind you, he moved too well for that. Anyway, when the other guys finally broke us apart I was expectin' him to be real mad. But he weren't. He was just sad, I guess. He says to me, 'Pete, why did you go and do this, I don't mean you any harm.' So I says about my suspicions, 'bout I how I recon he's been mistreatin' ol' Angelica, and he acts all shocked. 'Well,' he says, 'I ain't gonna hit you, and I'm not gonna press charges with the sheriff, but I want you to come down to the plant with me tomorrow and, if I'm doing something wrong, you show me how to do it.' So, with that, they kick me outta the bar and I go him, tail between my legs as it were.'

            As Pete talks Knives' face grows grimmer and grimmer. He remembers the night, all those days ago, when Vash came home injured and in the company of another human. It must have been after this incident. So, Pete has hurt Vash, this human has hurt his brother. Knives feels the blood rush to his face, his hands clench upon the table. He wants to leap forward, to throttle this disgusting peace of trash in front of him, to destroy it utterly for harming his brother. How dare it lay a finger upon him! It is no better than Steve, for all the pretences it puts on. And to think he was beginning to trust, even _like _it! 

            It takes every ounce of self control Knives has to prevent him from killing the spider, but he manages it, manages to sit tight. He wants to hear the rest of the story first, wants to know exactly what other crimes Pete has committed.

            Pete, for his part, seems oblivious to the fury on Knives' face, he's probably too caught up in retelling the tale, 'next day I go back to the Plant, durin' the day shift, to see Vash. I was gonna apologise for bein' so violent last night, 'cos there ain't no real excuse for that, granted. I was also gonna take him up on his offer, tell him what he was doin' wrong, make sure the idiot wasn't messin' up too badly. Damn, was I in for a shock! I remember, clear as day, seein' him work on ol' Angelica. He weren't goofing off or being impatient or anything, fact is I ain't never seen an        y one more gentle of a Plant. He really did treat her like a lady, he even talked to her, kept all the levels just right, made sure she had what she wanted, everything! I ain't never seen no body as tender to a Plant, and it paid off too. I'll tell you this, Knives, that day your brother showed me there was much more to him than there seemed. And that was the lesson he taught me, though I don't know if he knows it. As I've said, I tells it as I sees it, I don't sugar coat nothin'. But that day, you're brother showed me that what I sees ain't always right and so I gotta make sure to look twice before tellin' it, if you follow my meaning… That answer your question? Knives? Knives? You OK?'

            Knives is silent, he sits staring at his hands, and the aura of rage has fizzled out into a corona of pure shock. 

            Eventually, quietly, he speaks, 'tell me… what do you think of me? What do you see?'

            Pete seems off put by this question, he takes a careful sip of his whisky before answering, 'hard to say,' he replies at last, 'you keep yourself to yourself, I don't recon you're bein' entirely open, that's for sure, so I won't make any judgements. You seem alright, a bit angry, a bit closed minded, but… yeah, you ain't a bad sort, I suppose. I know there's somethin' going on between you and Vash, but I ain't gonna ask no questions. Me and Vash have become good friends since that fight in the bar, and I like to think I've become friends with you too, so I ain't gonna risk breaking either of those friendships by having to make choices. I'm also pretty sure something's bothering you, that you're not sure what to make of me, or anyone else for that matter, but that ain't really my problem. I just show you who I am, be nice, and let you work that out for yourself. I don't like to force my opinions on no one, so long as they don't force their opinions on me.'

            For a moment Knives is tempted to ask if he's been talking to Vash, if the two of them have been sneakily planning this out, but he has a feeling they haven't, that this is genuine. 

            How could it be? That a human could look beyond the obvious, be so flawed and yet so… so right? How can a human, who has hurt another creature, take back his judgement? How could this happen? Is he wrong? Is he right? If there is redemption for Pete? Is there redemption for him? Does he need redemption or was he right in the first place? 

            These questions buzz round his head, confusing him, worrying him, making him doubt some of the foundations of his reasoning. Like Pete, he's always told it as he's seen it, but what if he's seen it wrong? 

            He doesn't know the answer to these questions, but he is sure of one thing. Pete is different; he is the closest thing he has ever had to a friend. If nothing else he is a fascinating subject. Yes, Pete is special and his relationship, his life, should not be thrown away needlessly. He will spare the human, despite what he has done to Vash, if only to study him further.

            Besides, he needs something to get his mind away from the questions which are buzzing round his head.

            'Another game?' asks Knives, gesturing to the board.

            'Of chess? Nah,' Pete replies, pouring himself another glass of whisky, 'but I wouldn't say no to a game of drafts. I might actually beat you in that!'

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Wow… that was a long one… I hope it worked and Pete isn't becoming too annoying.

The Reader replies are going to be a little shorter because they're so many of them, I hope you can forgive me. Also, I might respond to some comments on my other story, Chess. Keep your eye out!

Reader Replies:

TheDreamsoftheDead: Oh, I did think it was good (in as much as I think any of my work is good,) I just thought I could use it to get a couple of extra reviews, I was going to post it no matter what, the only question was when. Sadly, I don't watch Teen Titans, but I have seen much of Cowboy Bebop, so I might read that when it comes along (depending how many end-of-series spoilers it holds. I'm glad you liked Pete, I'm hoping is a reasonable guy and that the info about him here will provoke some fun reactions. 

Angelstryke:  I'm glad this worked out, it could so easily have been a Gary Stu, I thought Knives should swear a little, he's not perfect, and I didn't want to make him good at everything. Heh, poor Vash, he's been taken for one hell of a spin, right? Thanks for the apple info, I looked it up and it's very fascinating. There's this cool site called The Fortunate Fall which has all this philosophical stuff about Trigun too… I liked that very much. Anyway, I'm using the apples more now! Please review AND keep updating that story of yours, you're not the only one on a cliff hanger, you know!

Aoi: Hum… something is keeping Knives there, that's for sure. Who won the game? Probably Knives, though if it was cards then Pete might have stood a chance… 

Communist Penguin: Thanks for backing me up and the Wolfwood/Knives thing, they have very similar philosophies, but Knives takes his to the extreme, more on that another time though. I'm trying to keep Knives' change gradual, though there will be a few leaps and bounds to come. I hope it continues getting interesting!

ATO: Cheers! Hey, any review is a good review! Loved the humour fic, it made me giggle and I recommend everyone go read it, if only so you can gawp in disbelief at the screen for a few moments.

Ron the Future Weasel: I'm so happy that Pete's a hit, I think he's pretty good. I'm not sure I'd get along all too well with him personally, a bit too blunt for my taste, but I think Knives might kind of respect that. I don't picture Knives as being the worlds best cook, not a bad cook, but not brilliant. Did the secrets revealed here live up to your expectations? ehEWWhy is everyone here feeling sorry for Vash? Shouldn't he be happy Knives is changing? Or do we just love any excuse to torment out Blond haired Hero? Well… Ok, yeah, we do. :shrug:  Oh, and if you could review those other stories you've read of mine, I'd be very, very grateful! I'm always eager to hear what people think!

Terrible T: WOW! Thanks for reviewing all those chapters, you're wonderful, you know that? Thanks for the shrubbery, I'll look after it. I do think Knives cares for Vash, deep down but matters are somewhat… complex, as shall be shown later. Here's a plot bunny for you, how about Knives' daughter marrying Millie's son. Imagine the chaos! Gah, blank Vash is so scary and sad, it just isn't right four our sentimental goofball to be that expressionless. Good point on the ignorance/fear thing, and yes, pictures would be nice but I can't draw for spit, so sorry that's going to have to be up to someone else. You're right about the weapon thing, it's more just a basic safety thing, just to take away temptation rather than ability a little. I'm happy someone spotted the symbolism of the stew, well done! Have a co… no, have some stew! As for the card game… personally I don't think a shirtless Knives would be entirely a bad thing… Well done for catching up, I'm aiming to post every two to four days, though it will depend on the situation, please keep posing and I hope your muses get batter! I really appreciate all these reviews!

TeaRoses: Happy Passover! Whee! I've got you addicted! I'm glad someone agrees with me about the girls, I love them but including them too much would just turn this story into another M/V/M/K fic, not really what I'm after. And thanks very much for the complement, I'm so happy I've managed to get you interested in looking at this facet of Trigun, it makes me very proud.

In reply to Blu and other authors seeking to use areas of my work: If you want to use any similar metaphors, ideas, and so forth you've seen here, please feel free. I would, however, be grateful if you could tell me, just so I can have a warm, fuzzy feeling, but don't worry too much about it, no one can claim ownership of a concept, not really. OC on the other hand, are a different matter. If you want to use one of my OC's, such as Pete, then feel free but A: contact me first telling me what story he/she's going to be in and B: give me credit in said story. Other than that, go ahead. Finally, word for word plagerism, however, is never acceptable. Not that any of you would do that, but I'm just saying anyway. 

Thanks, sorry but I just wanted to get that out. And thanks to all of you who reviewed Chess.

Next Time: Knives is giving it a second chance! He's going out on the town again and, for the first time ever, is allowing someone else to cut his hair… but will it all end in tears? 


	22. Day 285

Day 285

            He is giving it another try.

            It's like cauterising a wound, like putting a hand into the flame, even when one has been burned once, but he'll do it anyway. 

            He'll do it because he wants to know if what he's seen is right. 

            He'll do it because, at last, he thinks there might be a possibility that he was wrong. 

            It doesn't make it any easier.

            This time Vash lets him use his cane, but remains close to him as they walk through the town, his eyes are trained on Knives' every move. 

            Their reasons for coming outside are not only ideological, but practical too for Knives needs a hair cut.

            His white-blond locks are nearly touching his shoulders now, Vash has offered to cut them for him but he declined. 

            'I am not allowing you to come anywhere near me with a sharp object,' he had said, and he knows that it must have taken much willpower for Vash not to make a cutting remark of his own right then.

            He said he would do it himself, he did a pretty good job of it last time after all, but Vash has insisted that they go to a proper barbers shop this time. 

            Again Knives is less than happy, he dislikes the idea of allowing a human, any human, to be allowed so close to his person, to perform such an… intimate procedure. To cut pieces off him, as it were, even if those bits are just dead hair cells. All his life Knives has cut his own hair, and done a fine job of it, he cannot entirely comprehend why his brother wishes him to change these habits. 

            Still, if it is what Vash demands… 

            They reach the barbers shop soon enough, Knives quickly taking a seat and proceeding to sulk horrendously. His brother starts to talk to the barber, paying him the correct amount of money and detailing the style desired. 

            Knives listens closely to what his being said, for if Vash is attempting to give him a hair style like his own then he will regret the day he was born.

            As it is Vash instructs the barber to give Knives the same style he has always had, short and drawn back. 

            He is guided to the barbers chair and forced to sit down, a towel is placed around his neck and shoulders, and his hair is dampened, ready to be cut.

            It takes every ounce of concentration, every iota of self control he has not to leap out of the chair in panic as the human barber comes towards him with his scissors in hand, gleaming in the harsh sunlight. 

            He moves behind him, and Knives closes his eyes and tightens his grip on the chair arms, he half expects to feel to cold edge of a razor blade slit his throat at any moment.

            'Sir,' the smooth tones of the human barber resounds with mild irritation, 'if you could please stop shaking…'

            Taking a deep breath, Knives tries to control the involuntary movements of his head as, by reflex, he strains away from the scissors. 

            A few moments later there is a snipping sound as the barber begins his work. White-gold locks of Knives' hair falls around him.

            _You're being very brave, Knives_ says Vash's voice in his head.

            Knives scowls and shoots an evil look Vash's way, telling him exactly where to put his patronising tone.

            Despite his status as a creature which lives outside of time, the next few hours seem as years as the barber continues his work, the scissors snipping unseen, cutting away locks of Knives' hair. At one point, when he was trimming his fringe, Knives nearly bit through his lip in concentration as the blades shone and twirled before his eyes. The final few snips, where it seems to him that the barber can be cutting off no more than cells from the tip of his follicles, are almost unendurable.

            Eventually, however, the job seems to be done. The barber brings him a mirror and presents to him his work, asking if it is satisfactory. 

            From Knives' point of view he couldn't care less if he came out bald, so long as he can escape that dreadful chair and those hard, gleaming scissors. 

            'See,' says Vash as he escapes the seat, 'that wasn't so bad, was it?'

            Knives merely grunts, glad that it is over with.

            Then he watches, horrified as his brother takes his place in the barbers chair.

            'I'm gonna get my hair done too, you know,' he laughs, 'you just sit tight, Knives, then we'll be off home.'

            Sighing, Knives concedes and sits in the waiting room chair Vash previously inhabited, his eyes stray towards the window of the barbers shop where the busy life of the town passes by. 

            It reminds him of the video screens on the SEEDS ship, watching clips of times long past, observing actors put on a play for his amusement. 

            They're like ants, he thinks, scurrying past absorbed in their own petty lives, with nothing to look forward to except inevitable death, but struggling on anyway, struggling on for an Eden they may never reach. And even if they did, they would certainly destroy it.

            They must know this, surely, they must. So why did they keep on struggling?

The window is open to let air in, and even as he sits there pondering a cool breeze enters the stuffy shop, rustling his newly trimmed hair. The feeling of wind on his skin again, of being outside and alone, it brings him back to who he was, who he is. He feels as he did before Vash shot him, when he had been himself. 

            It feels good and yet… strangely disturbing.  

            As he watches three children run across the street, he finds that he recognises them, he knows their faces. They are the same three that tried to tempt him out of his room all those months ago, their names escape him but their forms are familiar enough.

            As he watches a disagreement forms between them, the dark haired child and one of the red heads seem to be talking animatedly with the other red head, who is screaming something back at then. It's hard to tell, but Knives thinks it's the female. One of them, the dark haired boy, pushes the other female, and, with another shrill scream, the girl falls down onto the dirt road. The two boys run off, leaving the red head girl crying in the dust.

            Knives stands up and moves towards the door, he feels Vash's eyes boring into the back of his head as he does so.

            'I'm not going to go far,' he says, 'I promise.'

            'Alright,' replies Vash, though his voice is heavy with suspicion, even without looking round Knives can tell that he's tensed up in the barbers chair, ready to leap into action should he do anything inappropriate.

            So, opening the door, Knives steps out into the dusty street and without entirely knowing why, he moves towards the crying child. 

            He feels no pity for her, or any real compassion merely… curiosity, he wishes to know what the disagreement was about. One can tell a lot about a pest by the behaviour of its offspring, he thinks.

            As his shadow blocks the sunlight surrounding her, the girl looks up at him and gawps.

            'Hello,' he says, trying to sound friendly. He's not entirely sure he succeeds,

            ''Lo,' she replies and starts to wipe the tears away from her eyes quickly, as if embarrassed by them.

            'What's wrong?' enquires Knives.

            The girl sniffs again, 'they won't let me play with them!'

            'Your friends?'

            'Yeah, Paul and my brother, Roberto. They say I can't play with them 'cos I'm a girl.'

            Knives nods to himself, he recalls the names now. This is the usual story of prejudice, told time and time again. The humans couldn't even get on with each other, strived within their very genders for equality, what chance did a Plant have? 

            'I hate them!' continues the girl.

            He blinks at these words, they sound strange coming from a small child.

            'Really?' he asks.

            'Yeah, I hate them! They're cruel and horrible and I never want to talk to them again! I hope… I hope… I hope they all drop dead!' and with this she starts to cry again, deep sobs which send hot, angry tears sliding down her cheek. 

            For one irrational moment he is tempted to touch the girl, to place a comforting hand upon her arm, but he shakes the impulse away. She is a spider, after all and no comfort would do any good; it would merely soften her up and make later revelations all the more painful. She is too young to understand the truth of the human condition; it is best she learn hate now and have a better chance of surviving amongst the evil of her own kind.

            Even as he stands back and watches her cry, he feels a presence behind him and knows that it is his brother.

            Vash moves round him and comes to sit down next to the sobbing girl; he mutters sweet words into her ear and tells her it's alright. 

            Knives watches with a kind of horrified curiosity as he makes her laugh, comforts her and tells her other lies. He says that she shouldn't blame her brother, that they should talk it out, should be nice to each other, lies, Knives thinks, all lies.

            When it is over she runs back off to play with the two boys and Vash goes with her, explains matters to the boys, plays with them until, at last, the three children are together again, tumbling innocently in the dust.

            Knives feels sick.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Gotta say, I'm actually rather pleased with this chapter, I think it worked out well… which probably means its utter Cr**, but there you go.

Readers Replies:

TheoldFart: Thank you, I'm happy that I've got to many new readers here! Yes, I'm sick of seeing OC romantic interests. Romance rarely interests me anyway, and I do honestly think that friendship is just as important and just as vital. Please keep reviewing!

Ron the Future Weasel: Tipsy Knives is a funny image, I'd like to see him absolutely smashed in a fic one day, that'd be funny. Vash has managed a lot, really, without his input Knives would not have only killed Pete on sight (more than likely) but would probably have escaped any how (the door was open, after all.) Pete is an important second step to Knives… change, but the first step, which Vash laid down in earlier chapters, was equally important. Torturing Vash is fun and not to OC, after all much of Trigun cannon is about 'how can we make Vash suffer as much as possible?' Gotta love that attitude! I'm looking forward to reading your reviews. Thanks for the smiling kitty, my cat likes to sit on my lap too when I'm on the computer, it just can't stand me taking interest in anything else other than it. Silly kitty! I hope you liked this chapter too!

Angelstrike: I did try to make him fairly real. He's a bit of a characature, really, but I don't think he's *too* bad. Good one for spotting the Pete/Steve thing, remember it, it might come in later… (hint, hint!) From what I can gather a Gary Stu is just the male version of a Mary Sue, I think that's all there is too it. Good thing Vash sent Knives to an expert barber, eh? I must admit, though, I was tempted to make him have a hair cut like Vash's, just for cheep laughs. I didn't though. See, Knives, I don't hate you ALL that much! (: Don't' worry though, there'll be other things to drive Knives over the edge… hehehe… Oh, and hurry up with your next chapter, damn it!

Aoi: Yeah, I made Pete's dialect slightly different so that he sounded more… earthy and realistic. If this was an actual anime, I picture him having the same type dialect as Wolfwood, a definite accent. Yeah, Knives is pretty much better now. Not that he's top of his form, but he's OK. I like your description of his hair cut as fuzzy, it is kinda fuzzy now you mention it.

Ana: Oooh, another new reviewer! Hello! :hug: Oooh, how I do love reviews! Heh, happy I hooked you, I had wondered how 'hookable' this fic was, given it's style, but it seems to have attracted some regular readers. BTW, a tip, no review is ever an annoying review unless it's full of useless flaming and swear words. I appreciate and love every review given out to me, it helps me write better in the future, for one thing. So thanks for your kind words, I honestly appreciate them, please keep reviewing!

SanoGirl: And ANOTHER! WOW! I'm on a roll here! Head… getting… to… big… to… fit…in… house! No, seriously, that is some of the nicest things anyone has ever said yet! Thank you! This seems to be the kind of fic that niggles on people until, out of sheer frustration, they are forced to read it, and then they love it! Great! And gods, I'm on another favourites list, I feel so proud :sniff: please, please keep reviewing though! Let me keep that warm, fuzzy feeling! Thanks! Oh, and I liked your Trigun fic, it was very nice. Also, if you like Gravitation (as I see from your summery) and don't mind Ryichui, check out Pianissimo Butterfly in the Gravitation fic section. It's rated R and is still being updated but it's fantastic! One of the best fics I've EVER read. And that goes for all of you, if you like Gravitation, check it out! 

AnonymousTrigunOtaku: Thanks, I'll try to keep it up! 

TheDreamsoftheDead: Hey, I almost missed you, you know. But you're getting a reply now! Thanks for the awesome praise. Good English, at least on a basic level, is vital for good fiction. I'm not perfect, far from it, but I do my best to at least abide by the basics of grammar and spelling. I think my descriptive sentences and my dialogue could use work but hey, I'm improving all the time. Don't worry, I'll be writing for a long, long time to come. I couldn't imagine a time when I won't write, I love it too much. I hope this chapter lives up to your praise, any how. 

NEXT TIME: Finally, at last, Knives make his escape! 'Nuff said. 


	23. Day 308

Day 308

            Today is the day. 

            For almost a month now Vash has left the front door open, so that Knives can let Pete inside when he arrives. Vash is going to be working late at the plant tonight, and Pete has said he won't be able to visit as he's celebrating some sort of special occasion, a friend's birthday or some such. 

            He has everything packed, not that 'everything' is all that much. Just some clothes, a little food, and a pen knife he found whilst rooting around in Vash's room. It's not much of a weapon, but it's a start and he feels sure he can procure something better later on. He's also stolen some of Vash's money from the jar under the bed where he keeps his earnings. 

            So, with everything packed snugly away into a bag strung upon his back, Knives opens the door and makes his escape.

            It's not as dramatic as might have been hoped, he thinks as he walks down the street of Angel's Rest, but it's an escape none the less.

            The people watch him as he passes; they've probably never seen him out without his brother. Well, they should take a long look because this will probably be the last time they ever see him, unless he returns to kill them all, that is.

            He hasn't really made any solid plans for the future. He knows where he's going, though; he's going to the bus station. Pete mentioned that there should be a bus passing through from January city at some point today. The exact time is never given as these things can depend on a variety of factors. 

            He knows that once he is upon that bus he is free; there are few cars in Angels Rest, none that can outpace the bus. The bus should take him to August city, and there he can easily loose himself in the busting crowds, applying the skills that have kept him from under Vash's radar for over a century. 

            As he walks through the street someone cries his name, he turns to see the three children, Jen, Paul and Roberto waving to him merrily. 

            He ignores them.

            He paces past the barber and the general store, conscious of the looming shape of the plant in the far distance. 

            Eventually he reaches the bus station, just a large post at the side of a dirt track. He's alone there; Angel's Rest doesn't get many travellers at this time of year.

            He scuffs his boots in the dirt, drawing aimless patterns in the sand. 

            Time passes; he shifts his position, becoming acutely aware of his aching legs. The bullet wounds are no longer painful, except perhaps the one in his left shoulder, the one which became infected; it aches occasionally when he bathes himself.

            It's good, he thinks, not to be in pain.

            The dust is settling into his skin and his throat feels parched, so he reaches into his bag and takes a swill of water. He's still alone at the bus stop, but he doesn't mind that. Doesn't mind it at all. Not one bit.

            He hums an aimless tune, he wishes he could remember where he learned it, not from Rem, he thinks… Mary maybe? One of the villagers here? Their next door neighbour, a woman whom he has never bothered to become acquainted with, sometimes sings to herself in the evening as she puts out washing to dry. Perhaps that is the source.

            His legs really hurt now, so he sits down in the dust, wishing there was some shade he could languish in, the suns are hot upon him, even though they are now descending. When will the damn bus come?

            The suns continue to sink towards the horizon, Knives' stomach rumbles rebelliously and he states it with some bread from his pack. Usually at about this time Pete would be visiting, they'd be playing checkers or cards or even chess. Pete still hasn't beaten Knives, though he vows he will, someday. It won't be today, however.

            The suns fall further down and the moons rise to take their place. Knives digs out a tattered cloak from the bag and wraps it around himself, needing protection from the rapidly cooling air. The bus must arrive soon, or it will be tomorrow already. It cannot be much later than this, unless something has gone drastically wrong. 

            Vash will soon be finishing his shift at the Plant, will soon know that Knives has gone and will undoubtedly know where he is. Unless the bus arrives soon Knives will have no hope of escape. 

            As if in answer to these thoughts he spies something on the horizon, a small dust cloud coming rapidly closer, pale in the moonlight he recognises it none the less. It must be the bus.

            He watches it approach, soon he will be out of this tiny town, away from his brother and out into the wide world, making his own future, continuing his work, with no one to hinder him. No one at all.

            'Damn Knives,' he whispers to himself and into the empty night air, 'you're an idiot.'

            He picks up his bag and stands up, stretching muscles that have become cramped from sitting down for so long. 

            Then, with one last glance at the rapidly closing bus, his ticket to January city, he turns on his heel and starts off away from the bus stop, down back into town.

            He walks the quiet streets, his feet kicking up dust, pale in the moons light.

            Soon he reaches Vash's house again, his brother must have arrived home before him and must be quite concerned, he's left the front door ajar. 

            Knives walks straight back in, barely sparing a glance at his shocked brother, who is sitting at the table with his head in his hands. 

            Before Vash can say anything Knives drops the travelling bag, throwing out the food, money, pen-knife and any other objects which belong anywhere except his room 

            Those are taken into his room and put away neatly, under the astonished eyes of his brother.

            'So,' Vash says at last, finally finding is tongue, 'you came back.'

            Knives just grunts and closes the draw, leaving only his night clothes out.

            'Thank you,' says Vash, but again Knives does not reply. 

            He simply glares at his brother, challenging him to say anything else. Vash does not take up the challenge, he walks out, allowing Knives to change into his night clothes and go to bed. 

            This Knives does and he is marginally surprised that, when he does find sleep, it is deep and untroubled by any dream.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Reader's Replies: 

Angelstryke: Aw, Knives is cute when he's all sulky, he's defiantly got a childish streak to him, as I tried to illustrate in the chapter. Heh, father son? But that would make Vash the more mature one, and that's just scary! Hell, Vash being more mature than just about anyone is plain scary! (I did have a funny idea for a story, a while back, Knives is always presumed to be the older brother, but what if they found out that Vash was actually the elder. Only by something like 0.2 of a second or something, but it would still annoy the heck outta Knives and give Vash plenty of teasing to do! Anyway, I'm so glad you updated your fic, I'm reading it avidly though I'm going away for a bit so I don't know if I'll catch your next chapter as soon as it comes out. Sorry!

TeaRoses: I'm glad the hair cut part worked, I think I left a review with you for Bones, right? It was a very good story and I enjoyed it a lot! Don't worry, there's a lot more character development still to come… for better or for worse. 

SanoGirl: I think Vash is my favourite character, I just love all the facets to him. But I've got a growing love for Wolfwood and Knives has always fascinated me. I don't actually think Knives is really my favourite, it's more that there's such a lot I can say about him in a fic, and whilst I love Vash I didn't want to start with him, if you know what I mean. I'm just writing a fic about him and Wolfwood now and boy! Getting the dynamics between those two is hard! Any how, yes, I think you're right. Knives isn't so much evil as… well… just a little bit wrong. Hell, maybe he isn't even wrong, but he is closed minded and made decisions far to fast which he hasn't' thought about retracting. But anyway, one of the good things about Trigun is almost non of the 'main' villains were completely evil, they almost al have some motive if you look. I hoped you liked the story, in my opinion it is one of the best Gravitation fics ever!

Aoi: Heh, I think Vash is the 'hippie' of the brothers, with all his love and peace. I actually remember reading, somewhere, a complaint against making Knives nice, because he just turns into a big hippie. But anyway, I think that Knives just distrusts humans on principle, after all humans are more than happy to kill other humans anyway, so whether they know he's a plant or not is pretty much redundant, in his eyes. Who is he now? I'm not even sure he could answer that. Yeah, he's probably wondering that exact question, but he'll find his answer… sooner or later… he'll find his answer…

Magnet-Rose: A new reader! Yay! :glomp: please don't stop reviewing! The most enlightening stories of all time? :blush: well, I just like exploring different angles, that's all. And I'm sure your Knives characterisation isn't that bad, we all have our own vertions of the characters, so long as you can at least partly back them up with the cannon it's not a problem. I've just tried to make mine as 'realistic' as possible. Cannon wise it might be very wrong, because in the canon Knives was just an out and out nutcase for the most part… Anyway, thanks again for the complement, I hope you'll review this chaptrer, I love all reviews!

Ron the Future Weasel: Nice turn of phrase! Comfort Jen? Nah, he hasn't gone that soft yet, sorry! He was close to it, though… Heh, Knives is still not sure what to make of humans, maybe he is slipping back into the lies thing, but it's what he's belived for centuries, what's kept him going in a way. He won't throw that in built belief away quickly or easily! I hope this escape chapter works… it might seem kinda lame but it's really just here to show how far he's come… 

Baz: Hello! I don't know if you've come to this chapter yet, but welcome aboard! I do love debating and seeing two points in an argument. It's how the human mind works and I think an intelligent fic should try to how that… but thanks for the kind words. I'm glad you're enjoying this, please keep reviewing!

Next Time… well, I can't say much without giving tons away, so I'll just give you this quote from the chapter…

"Knives knows the sent of blood, the feel of grief, it sends him into an entirely new dimension..."


	24. Day 342

Day 342  
            The rhythm of days continues unabated. How odd, he thinks, that it should be as such, that habits should be developed over a few months that a century could not create.

            Pete is coming more often now, not only when Vash is away. Tonight, for example, they shall be returning together after a drink at the saloon. 

            He feels a little uncomfortable, socialising with Pete around his brother. He's not able to say why; perhaps it is some remnant of his pride that he feels ashamed that he is finally spending time with a human.

            They're late tonight, but Knives remains unconcerned, they've probably just stayed for an extra drink at the saloon, he hopes they will not return too inebriated. It will ruin any chance of a game of chess with Pete; he has the board set up ready for when they return.

            His keen ears catch the sound of footsteps outside and the door opens slowly. Vash has returned home alone, his white shirt is spotted with red. 

            Knives knows the sent of blood, the feel of grief, it sends him into an entirely new dimension.

            He acts without much thought, rising from his seat and moving towards his staggering brother, holding him in his arms heedless of the blood stains. Vash is crying deep, wracking sobs, sobs of true misery and not sentimentalism. Between his cries Knives can make out the words, repeated over and over again, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…'

            He wonders where Pete is. Part of him suspects the answer to this question. There is anger in Knives' mind, confusion and fear too, but he ignores these. He cannot act without information, revealing his emotions now would only be counter productive. So he sits Vash down upon a near by chair and fetching the bottle of whisky he knows Vash keeps in the cellar, passing it quickly to his hysterical brother. 

It takes many moments for him to calm down enough to tell the tale of that night.

            They, Vash and Pete, had indeed gone to the saloon for a couple of drinks and had been returning home when they were waylaid by a mugger. The boy had a gun, though he scarcely seemed to know how to use it. He'd threatened to kill them unless they handed over their money. Pete had been all for giving in, but Vash had tried to talk to the prospective mugger. He'd stood in front of him, his hands open and tried to persuade the boy that there was a better way, that he needn't fall to crime, that his actions were wrong and that he could do so much better. He'd stepped forward, his hand open ready to receive the boy's gun.

            For some reason, however, the boy had panicked and fired his weapon.

            Pete had leapt forwards, pushing Vash out of the way and taken the bullet himself.

            The rest seemed not to matter much, as Vash had taken the boy down, using the gun in his prosthetic arm to shoot the weapon out of the terrified mugger's hands, then wrestling him to the floor and knocking him unconscious. 

            He'd called for help, the sheriff and the doctor had come, the former to take the mugger away, the latter to help Pete.

            But Pete was beyond help, beyond life.

            So, after answering some of the sheriff's questions the shocked Vash had returned home alone.

            At this point Vash brakes out into sobs again, seemingly lost in his well of grief and shame. 

            Knives feels dead. He holds his younger sibling, as is his duty, and consoles him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He feels like a child again, like he had returned to the SEEDS ship and was, once again, comforting his younger brother, chasing away the nightmares that consumed his own soul, his shirt becoming wet with Vash's tears and Pete's blood stains.

            But any other emotion that was lost to him as yet, the shock was too fresh, there was no time for anger or healing, only for looking after little Vash.

            So it was that, after many hours, Vash uses up all his tears and sobs and falls asleep in his brother's arms. 

            Knives picks him up and carries him to his room, settling him down peacefully amongst the blankets. 

            When this is done he moves back into the main room and stays there awhile, spending a moment in reflection, a moment alone in the dark.

            Upon the table the chess set remains, set up for a game that will never take place. 

            Knives takes his seat by it and examines it, for a brief second he can almost picture Pete sitting in the other chair, grinning, holding a black pawn in his hand and making a move.

            It is just a fantasy though, like many such things in life, a dream that will never come true, that is now lost forever. 

            He remains there a while longer, watching the interplay of moonlight upon the board, red light on white and black tiles, the shifting shadows of the pieces.

            After a while he reaches over and reverently places the white king upon its side.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers Replies: 

Eeep! Sorry to those I missed last time, and I'm sorry for taking so long, I'll reply to you now…

Communist Penguin: Bald Knives = funny. Bald Vash = funnier! Thanks for your kind comments! Please keep reading and reviewing!

Ron the Future Weasel: Heh, Knives is beginning to realize he's changed more than he'd like to admit… don't worry about the short review, I like long ones but any review is a short one. I'm sorry my replies are so short at the moment, but with such a quick chapter I don't want it to be all replies and no content.

Magnetic Rose: I hoped you enjoyed the glopmed :blush: I spell so badly sometimes… and remember, any review is a good review. The comment on Knives is sweet too, I really appreciate it! I hope my versions continue to impress. 

Terrible T: Eeek, so many reviews! THANK YOU! I'm only sorry I can only give a fairly short reply… I might E-mail you with something longer later. I'm glad everything is working well. Who's the big brother? I don't know. I'd say that, in the Anime at least, Knives certainly takes on the roll of big brother, though whether or not he is is debatable. Good point about the blood… I doubt Knives would have been happy to share hair styles again. I'll supply my essay on forgiveness later, BTW… the fact that Vash let him out is meant to show that both brothers are learning lessons of trust. It's not much but it's a start, yeah? Thanks for not flaming me, ten months is a long time, yeah, but Knives needs a long time to get… ah… better. Yeah, it's a good thing he didn't get on the bus, that could have been embarrassing! Thanks for the writing comment. I do my best though some spelling/grammar mistakes slip in here and there… I am very dyslexic after all. Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews, please keep it up!

Angelstryke: Thanks for the review… I think one could argue that, in the Manga, Knives might be the younger brother but in the Anime there are all sorts of comments which point to the fact Knives considers himself the elder. Everything from the crew calling Vash  'mother's boy,' to the way Knives comforts him. Plus there's the fact that Vash followed him around like a puppy for years in the desert before he got the courage to leave. Yeah, in the Anime I've always seen Knives very much as the older brother, in actions if not in fact. Having said that, you do have a good argument too… Sorry about the blurbs, but I don't think I'll be giving them up any time soon! (evil grin!)

Aoi: Yeah, I don't think Knives wants to be alone any more… and I think there are other reasons drawing him back. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations, despite it's shortness. Please keep reviewing!

SanoGirl: I'm so happy that the progression in this is working, though expect some big changes here (for better or for worse…) I'm also glad you're enjoying Pianissimo Butterfly, is it not the best Gravitation fanfic ever? And that goes for everyone here, if you like Gravitation check it out! I promise you won't be disappointed.

Sesshomarus-Girl101: Wow, I'm on your fav's list? Thanks! Ooh, you're in for a treat as writers go. Most of my reviewers write some damn good stuff and don't forget to check out Sailor Lilith Chan, she's awesome too! Again, thanks for the praise about Knives, out of curiosity who's your favourite character? Just wondering. Please keep reviewing!

NEXT TIME: Things finally come to a head and, at the trial of Pete's killer, Knives learns a painful lesson. 


	25. Day 344

Day 344

            If it were not for Vash, this town would be ashes by now.

            He concentrates on the anger as it is the clearest of emotions he feels now, it is the emotion he knows the best, the emotion that has fuelled him for much of his life. He recognises that now, though he is still unsure about whether it is an entirely bad thing.

            Still, it is what he knows and he knows it well, it holds other, more painful emotions at bay.

            Had it not been for Vash's pleading, and the cold voice inside of him which points out that this entire situation might be a good lesson in the truth of humanity for his naive brother, he would have given into the rage. 

            As it is, two days after the murder of Pete, he stands at the back of the Angel's Rest court room, an aura of palpable rage radiating from him, keeping the watching spiders away.

            Vash has already taken the witness stand, Knives watches with a bitter smirk on his face as he placed one hand, his organic hand, upon the bible and made oaths of truth to the human god.

            Knives thinks that ironic for, even if such a superior being exists, he has long abandoned Gunsmoke. 

            He and his brother are the closest things to Gods that any in this room shall ever encounter.

            Vash cries through his testimony of course, but speaks eloquently enough towards the end, begging (predictably) for a just but merciful punishment upon the accused.

            Others take the witness stand; prosecution and defence make their cases a story emerges. A story of a teenage boy, his home destroyed by bandits, starving upon the streets with only a gun to make his living by. A boy desperate for food, who fumbled his gun and killed a man. A good man.

            Pete had lived on his own, he'd not taken a wife nor had he any older relives left upon this world. He did, however, have a younger sister who lived away from him, with her own family. 

            She is the last to take up the witness stand and Knives is shocked to see that he recognises her, for she is the woman who sings whilst putting up the laundry, his next door neighbour whom he has seen whilst upon the porch. Odd how such things can happen, such links of blood and lives can be made without him even noticing. 

            She tells the courtroom of Pete, of the good he did, of the man whom he is. It is sugar coated, of course, but Knives had expected nothing less. Despite this it moves him a little, which he had certainly not expected and part of him wishes he could take the stand also, to give some testimony of the man whom he was so close to. 

            At the end of her speech she is asked a question by the judge in light of Vash's own pleading. She is asked what she believes the boy's punishment should be; if he is pronounced guilty.

            She asks for mercy.

            The jury leaves the court room and makes a decision, not a process which takes a terribly long time. 

            He is declared guilty of murder by accident, but not design. 

            The judge pronounces sentence, taking the situation into account and the pleading of the witnesses. He is condemned to three years jail, followed by a further year in community service. (1)

            Knives is sweating with white hot fury at the end, his hands are clenched at his side and shaking, the nails digging into his palm so deep they draw blood.

            He grabs Pete's sister as she moves past him, holding her tight, allowing his cold blue eyes to bore into her.

            'Why?' he hisses, 'why did you plead for that filth! He deserves the same fate as Pete, he deserves death!'

            'Perhaps,' she replies, 'and that is what part of me wishes, but I don't have the power to say what he deserves. Will his death bring Pete back? It won't, it will just mean more blood spilt upon the ground and that is not what we need. It is not what Pete would have wanted. I won't live my life in anger and shame, I won't kill to appease by own thirst for blood, that boy once had family as well, after all.' 

            He releases her with these words, his fingers suddenly numb. 

            She moves on, drifting past him in darkened dress and veil and is lost to the crowds.

            He feels another presence besides him, he knows without looking it is Vash.

            'It's not fair,' he says weakly.

            'No,' replies Vash, 'it isn't.'

            'I should be able to do something,' he says, he wraps his arms around himself, 'I should be able to make it better, to stop it happening.'

            'You can't do anything,' says Vash, putting his own arm round his brother, 'no one can. Not without committing a still greater crime. We're not Gods, Knives, no matter how much we wish we were. We do what we can and hope that it is enough.'

            'But we should be able to, we should be strong!'

            'No, Knives, we shouldn't.'

            He tightens his grip upon himself, trying to wrap his tattered cloak of rage and pride still closet, holding the shattered pieces of his emotional armour together around the hollow, aching hole of his soul. 

            'Knives,' whispers Vash again, 'please, you don't need to be strong for me any more.'

            Harder, so hard it hurts, so hard his eyes close tight shut, his teeth dig into his bottom lip, drawing tangy blood.

            'Please, be weak for me.'

            Harder, harder and harder until everything is a tight speck around a pinprick of searing light, so hard the emptiness hurts inside, so hard he feels like he's dying because it's too painful to live. 

            'You can cry now Knives, please… cry for me?'

            At last he lets go and his tears, a century and more old, fall from his blue eyes onto the parched soil of Gunsmoke, finally fertilising it. 

(1) Not sure if this is an entirely appropriate punishment, but it felt right when I wrote it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Sorry this took to long to post, I've been really busy lately still, better late than never!

Reader's Replies…

Ron the Future Weasel: Aw, sorry I made you cry. Still, it's nice to know I can do emotive writing! It's very sad for all involved, but necessary for the plot. A lot of people seemed to like the Chess ending, which I'm very, very happy about. I'm rather proud of that idea myself, :grin:. 

I hope the 'lesson' in this was alright… 

TheDreamsoftheDead: So happy you're loving this! I love having you as a reviewer. Sorry about Pete's death but he really had to go… besides, you know what they say about the good… they die young… (Though Vash kinda disproves that… maybe…)

]

Magnet-Rose: Aaand it's another 'aw' for Pete. I never guessed the poor guy would be so popular! That's a first for an OC! Better? Well… that's one word for it… and thanks for the wording comment, I feel so happy!

Sesshomarus-Girl101: Augh, as much as I love you for reviewing, I do wish you had an easier name to spell! Anyway, so… you root for the 'dark side' then? Good for you! I'm actually planning to write a short Legato fic soon… fingers crossed. Yay for spastic reviews! It's all good! I know what you mean about many Knives fics. I'm certainly sick of the 'Knives finds love and everything gets better!' approach. It's alright to a degree, but it's so clichéd only a fevery few authors, like Antelstryke, can pull if off any more. On that topic, Angelstryke's Knives fic is rather good, I can recommend you that fic. And, if you're willing to go in for the long haul, check out Gloria Stone's CHECKMATE: A spider's bounty. Neather fics are finished yet, but they're both rather good. 

SanoGirl: Thanks for the comments, and as you can see this does have an effect on Knives' progress… good or bad will be fully revealed later. And I'm going with Knives' rather than Knives's, but it can be done either way, I think. 

Angelstryke: Hello again! Aw, another person crying! Sorry. Heh, you've got the conflict in a nutshell, poor guy… still don't worry, he'll be resolving some things soon. And no, DO NOT KILL OF LOKE! 

Ok? Please? Don't or… or… or… I'LL KILL KNIVES IN THIS FIC!' :breath in and out: there, threat over with! 

Oh, and hurry up with more of your fic, please? I do so love it!

 Aoi: Hello! And the tears keep rolling in… Still feel the mugger's stupid? It was just some poor kid, he's not a murderer really… it was just one mucked up tragedy. And it brought a lot of suffering to everyone, including Vash as, once again, his pacifism has cost someone their life… Thanks for the reviews.

AnonymousTrigunOtaku: Thanks for reviewing again! It's good to hear from you. Aw… now there are some other good authors around, like Angelstryke and Sailor Lilith. Please keep reviewing!

Communist Penguin: Ach, I'm drowning in tears over here! It's great! Oh yeah, you're right, it is a big turning point. Sorry about the shortness of that chapter, and this chapter, but they just turn out how they turn out you know? My god, I'm actually making people feel emotion? I didn't know I could really do that, excellent. I hope this chapter lives up to expectations.

TerribleT: Hehehe, I am evil, aren't I? And yeah, you've got my effects in one there, he can't grieve yet but still… What is it with the censors here? Why change that little aspect of your review? Why? Thanks for spotting the error, like I said they just don't always show up, curse them! Well done, BTW, you caught up with me! Don't worry, it won't happen again :evil face:.

Thanks for all the reviews guys, I love you all! PLEASE keep it up! 

Next Time: Alone with his thoughts Knives muses on his life thus far, his choices and recent events. He will come to some remarkable conclusions… 


	26. Day 345

Day 345

            He's honestly astonished that there's so much water within him. He's sacrificed blood to this dusty world before, sweated under the merciless suns, but his tears he has always kept to himself. He thought that made him strong, now he wonders if he has been wrong.

            He cried in his brothers arms all day, weeping for… he doesn't know quite what for. For Pete? For Vash? For himself? He knows only that there is pain, deep pain that he has kept inside for so long he can hardly remember a time without it. 

            He wonders if his heart was broken then; if he has cried out his entire soul, for it seems that he feels nothing now, not pain, not anger, not pride, not even love. He just feels emptiness, a hollow aching in his chest and stomach. 

            Will he ever be the same again?

            No, no he will not. He's cried in front of his brother, he's been weak in front of Vash, he has shed tears for a Human. How can he ever be the same again? 

            He is alone in his room once again, a situation which is both good and bad, a blessing and a curse. 

            Darkness has fallen outside, the light of the scarred red moon spills into his chamber casting dark crimson shadows upon the walls. He slept for a while, when the tears ran out, more exhausted than he's ever been before. When he awoke he felt different, felt the hollowness.

            But what was he crying for? How did he lose it, this emotional armour he'd built, his pride and rage, the things which made him strong, which set him apart from his constantly blubbering brother? 

            With nothing else to do, he casts his mind back for the answer, tries to think about how it started…

            The SEEDS ship… yes, it started there. 

            He'd cried then, of course, when he was much younger, for surely every baby cried for food and caring and love, it was only natural. That was different. 

            He'd cried in pain, too, Steve had made sure of that, but again that was a different sort of tear, a natural reaction, one almost impossible to fight off. 

            But to cry in sorrow, to let forth such emotion, to make oneself vulnerable… he'd stopped that because of Vash.

            Vash had always been the weak one, Rem's baby, words and fists seemed to cause him so much more pain, which in turn caused Knives pain.

            He remembered nights of sitting besides his brother, comforting him, trying to make it all better, promising to make it all better, hiding his own tears so that Vash wouldn't be even more upset. That would only make things worse, after all.

            He was Vash's big brother, big brothers didn't cry.

            Big boys didn't seem to cry, either.

            He'd noticed that in Rem, she cried quite a lot and her crew mates had joked about it often, laughing at her sentimentalism, perhaps causing her more pain. Knives related to this even then, Steve always seemed to take more pleasure when he knew he'd made him cry. 

            Tears were weakness, tears were human, he would not cry. 

            And he was better than that, better than human. Rem had said so herself, he and Vash were angels, sent from heaven to protect the ship, better than human, so he had to be strong.

            Yes, that is why. He would be strong, strong for his brother and for himself, strong in spite of Steve and the cruel humans. He would use pride as his armour, pride that he was right, that the humans would not crush him.

            Not that Vash had shown any real gratitude, that is. He never appreciated his sacrifices. 

            He recalled the first time they'd fought, really fought. 

            It had been after the butterfly incident and Vash had knocked him over, had been angry at him, and had _hurt _him!

            He'd only killed the spider, after all, he knew how much Vash loved butterflies, surely it was better he did the deed and saved Vash the pain, saved him from having to choose. He couldn't let the spider kill the butterfly, it would make Vash cry. What was the sacrifice of one insect for his brother's tears? Humans made similar choices all the time, eating an apple, stealing the child of the tree so that they could live. It was the natural order of things, that the superior life forms must destroy the weaker, so they themselves could live.

            And Vash had repaid him with violence, had hurt him!

            Why? Why did Vash always hurt him? Why did he abandon him when he tried so hard to keep them together? Why did he spurn all attempts at protection and safely when it was _Vash_that so desperately needed that protection? Why was it that he would refuse to kill a human, even the worst of humans, but would happily spill his own brother's blood? Well, maybe not happily, but there was some grim irony in the fact that the first person Vash had ever shot, to Knives knowledge, was him, his own brother, the person who loved him most in all the world.

            Yes, that is where some anger came from, anger at being helpless, at being spurned, at being hurt and at being alone. Always alone.

            He'd known he wasn't human for a very long time, since he was a child in fact. He'd known he was different, had it drilled into him by Steve.

            He and Vash were like nothing else, not human, not Plant. 

            He'd never understood how Vash had been able to cope with it, to act so human. Oh, he'd cried at Steve's accusations, had worried about their predicament, but always Vash would return to Rem, return to the humans with a smile on his face and a song in his heart, had forgiven the humans their trespasses, and had loved them.

            Knives had tried to turn to the Plants for company; though his communication with them was very limited he found some acceptance in their alien eyes. That was when he'd first learned about the butterfly and the spider, about the unfairness of it that ones species should be trapped alone in a bulb, whilst another fed of its very life force, killing it. That the parasite should feed upon the angel, it was against the natural order of things.

            Sometimes he'd felt that way himself, like he was trapped in a tiny bubble whilst the crew of the SEEDS ship watched him, fed off his knowledge, off his very being. A beautiful butterfly, pinned down for amusement. 

            They'd dragged him and his brother down, anyway, trying to make them carbon copies of themselves. He saw it in the way Rem cut Vash's hair, cut it in the shape and form of her dead lovers, tried to make him human, to drag him down from his rightful place. She'd modelled Vash after the dead Alex, and she would have done the same to him, tried to make him the perfect human, taken away all individuality.  Disgusting. 

            Knives had little desire to be human anyway and had born little love for anyone on the SEEDS ship, certainly not after being at the tender mercies of Steve. 

            He'd been close to Rem, of course and aside for her obvious favouritism of Vash and her sentimental, dreamer attitude; he'd cared for her quite a bit. Mary and Rowan had been mere figures in the background; he'd scarcely cared one way or another about them, though he had admired Rowan scientific knowledge.

            The Captain, Joey, he'd rather liked. Once again he'd admired his willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect his crew and ship, his strength of character and his over all fairness. Once he'd wanted to let him live, too, for he'd always been kind to him and Vash, he'd been the one to teach him that important lesson, how it was right to make the smallest sacrifice to protect the larger goal. But towards the end, when he'd regretted opening the air lock to save Rem and them, he'd seen the truth. The Captain was just another sentimental human, weak, spineless, probably more eager to save Rem than Vash or Knives. 

            Besides, it had been only proper that the captain should have gone down with the ship.

            He had been the first man Knives had killed with his own two hands, the first test of his resolve and his strength. He'd passed. 

            That just left Steve, the first person who Knives had seen die. His first taste of human death. Watching that… creature, beg and plead at his trial had given Knives a certain sense of satisfaction, of justice.

            That memory brought him to the present for a moment, strange that he'd been so happy to see a comparatively innocent man die, and so grieved to see a guilty man live. Perhaps that meant he had a strong sense of justice?

            He snorts to himself. 

            Justice, what did that word mean to the humans? The only justice they had ever known was that of the survival of the fittest, kill or be killed; it was the only law that mattered to them.

            Something was bothering him though, something about the two court cases, the only examples of justice he'd ever known. 

            Did he really grieve for him, for Pete? What was it about that human he'd liked so much, when he'd spurned all other such creatures?

            He had been intelligent, surely, he had a respect for Plants, he had been simply spoken, straight forward and relatively composed. He was… he had been… he'd been a little like Steve.

            That thought sends Knives gasping, plunged him into shock, though he knows that it was true. The two men did have much in common, so why was it one was such a monster and the other… the other was… nice?

            There was the simple fact that Pete had been tolerant of Knives, had treated him as a fellow being, not with coddling, or intolerance, but with respect. He'd always been open minded and he'd never hurt Knives.

            But he'd hurt Vash, he'd hit him, he'd treated Vash with intolerance.

            Knives wonders if this is how his brother feels, if his brother secretly despises Pete, but hid it away. Perhaps it was Vash who committed the crime, who killed Pete and framed the boy for the murder… perhaps Vash was jealous and…

            No, no that is not true. It cannot be. Vash simply isn't capable of such actions and even if he was then Knives would sense it. Besides, the boy admitted guilt and Vash has plenty of friends aside from Pete, he could have used any other different means to drag him and Knives apart. No, this is not of Vash's doing. It couldn't be.

            But the question remained that if Pete was like Steve, if he was even as violent as Steve at one point, what made him different? 

            He changed his opinion.

            That is the answer, Knives knows, when faced with truth, when shown that he was wrong about Vash, Pete put away his pride and admitted defeat, admitted that he had been wrong and tried to move passed it. 

            Steve hadn't, Steve had been too full of anger and pride and jealousy to think of him and Vash as anything other than monsters, he'd spurned all the evidence otherwise.

            Yet, if this was true, if this was right, then wasn't Knives guilty of the same thing? Hadn't he put a barrier of pride and anger between himself and the world, trying to protect himself from hurt, trying to save his brother pain? 

            He'd seen things, many things, which Vash had maintained proved that the human race wasn't all evil, that it was worthy of its existence. Yet each time Knives had spurned that argument, had ignored it, and had dismissed it. Was that a sign of his own pride? His own stubborn resilience to see what was put in front of him?

            In trying to protect himself and his brother from people like Steve, had he become Steve?

            Had he been wrong? After all this time, all this effort, pain, anger, after all of it had he been wrong?

            The last sands of surely fell between his metaphysical fingers, leaving him clasping at nothing. Not even straws. 

            So, this was it. After a century this was where he was, alone, hurting, unsure, afraid and farther away from Eden than ever. A century of trying and trying to reach Eden, and he had lost it all. He hadn't even made the first footsteps on the journey. 

            He'd gained nothing but lost so much. 

            So, in his room, Knives curled upon his side in the foetal position, lost within the emptiness of his life. 

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Note: OK, now Fanfiction Net has asked its writers not to use "chat or keyboard dialogue" in the authors notes. Can someone tell me what that is and if I can avoid it? I'd rather not have this story pulled… If it means not replying with the kind of tone/detail I've been using thus far then they can screw it, quite honestly, because I've got no other way/place I can reply to you guys, and after writing this much I think I'm entitled to some conversation. Besides, notes like this is where a writer learns what his/her strengths and weaknesses are, which is half the bleeding point of FFN, right? But yeah, info welcome. Thanks! And now…

Reader's Replies:

Magnet Rose: I seem to be making a lot of people cry… I don't know whether to be happy about it or not… mmm… thanks for still reading this, much appreciated. I hope this chapter was interesting too.

Zolac No Miko: Oh… my... Um... wow. When I saw how many reviews I got I was shocked and VERY happy. So lots of hugs to you! Thanks so much for reviewing all my chapters, with this I might reach past the 200 mark on my reviews by the time this is over, that'd be cool! Well, because you've written so much I'll write and E-mail back to you! Because, to be honest, I don't like it when my notes are longer than my chapter! But thanks so much for your support, please keep reviewing!

Ron The Future Weasel: About time he cried, eh? Come on, we all knew it, all Knives ever wanted was a nice big hug! :giggle: sorry, girly moment there. I hope the musings in this chapter were good, please let me know what you think!

ATO: Glad to hear it! (: 

SanoGirl: Yep, that was a VERY important moment for Knives. It's taken him a long time to heal, but he's starting, at last he's starting… heh… and he's realizing he's not quite all powerful after all…

Angelstryke: First things first… HURRY UP AND FINISH THE DAMN STORY! :ahem: sorry, I'm suffering withdrawl symptoms from you fic, gods knows there isn't much other good fic around at the moment. ): Anyway, I'm very glad it didn't come off as cheesy, there's gonna be some huge leaps and bounds made in the next few chapters, I'm kinda worried that I've ruined him… I don't think I have, I've tried to keep him Knives but still… Yeah, maybe it was lenient but there it goes, I just wasn't sure and it sounded reasonable at the time. It doesn't matter much anyway. Complete? Well… uh… nearly. Sorry but there it is, this fic is on the final section now. Don't worry, there's a fair bit to go, but it is drawing to a close. So keep reading! 

Aoi: Legato cried in the manga? Cool. I don't think Knives ever cries in the Anime. Or, to be more accurate, he never sheds a tear. He cries out in anger and he screams in pain, but I don't recall ever seeing any moisture involved. The only time in the Anime where he's ever truly, really upset is just after Vash shoots him for the first time. Damn, I love that part because he looks so very, very, very sad, you know? And he's screaming so desperately for Vash but Vash just runs… very sad. Anyway, yes he does try far, far too hard to be strong in my opinion.

Communist Penguin: Yay! I'm an emotive writer! Go me!!! What else to say… not much really… Did you like this chapter too?

TeaRoses: I've got to say, I'm rather chuffed with the God bit too. I don't know why but, once again, it felt very… Knivesish, if you know what I mean. It's so wonderful be told I'm doing Knives well, I'm always so self conscious about this. And I'm on another favorite's list? Awesome! How many favorite lists is this story ON now? I must find out, it'd be great advertising! (:

NEXT TIME: At last… forget the guns… forget the bullets… it's time for the real Vash/Knives confrontation. After 130 years they… talk. Last time it was their bodies which were in peril. Now, sitting alone and finally working through their problems, it is their minds… and their very souls which they risk…

(Ooh, that was dramatic, wasn't it?) 


	27. Day 346

Day 346

            The world when he awakes is a strange, hazy place, he wonders if he is still dreaming. His dreams have been strong and powerful, though he scarcely remembers them now. He thinks he recalls a mountain with thousands of paths winding their way up it. Rem was there, and so was Vash, though he doesn't recall if he talked to them or what exact part they played in his dream. 

            He feels that he is not alone and with a tentative push of his mind, he senses that Vash is in the room with him. His presence is probably what woke Knives up. 

            'Are you thirsty?' he asks and Knives nods, for he has been sleeping and weeping for a long while now.

            He takes the glass of water from Vash's hands and drinks, though not too eagerly. He cannot find the enthusiasm, the hope to keep his body alive. 

            With his pride, rage and drive gone he feels as he did all those many months ago, apathetic, careless, a dead man walking. The only emotion left to him is sadness and a terrible, terrible guilt.

            'It's good to see you awake,' says Vash, grinning, 'I thought you'd be asleep forever!'

            His grin makes Knives blanch; it's one of those grins he's managed to perfect over a century of pain. A grin so empty it hurts to look upon, it's the smile of a man who has experienced so much torment that he knows not what to do except smile because screaming does nothing but hurt those around him. It is, perhaps, the armour Vash wares to protect others, his own way of hiding and dealing with being hurt.          

Knives wonders if he could use it himself, but he doesn't think so. Besides, he doubts that it would be any good to him; it probably does Vash few favours. 

            He has been the cause of it; he has been the one to give Vash that pain, to force him to don that laughing, smiling armour. 

            It has led to this at last; almost one hundred and thirty three years of his life have been for nothing. His existence, nothing, his search for Eden, nothing. 

            He sees that now and he feels… peaceful. It is almost over, almost finished with all questions answered and all answers disregarded. Now there are only a few last things to discover, to discuss before it is finished, before everything comes to a head and everything comes to nothing. 

            'Vash,' croaks Knives.

            'Yes?'

            'I… I'm sorry.'

            Vash does not reply, either to accept or refuse the apology. He merely sits there, gazing at his brother, his aqua eyes calm and impenetrable. Knives sees the question there, the question that has always been there.

            'I tried to do it to save you,' he says, 'I didn't want you to feel pain, I didn't want you to be alone or crying. I just wanted you to be happy, to be with me. The humans seemed so evil, so cruel. I couldn't stand them hurting my baby brother, I couldn't stand the idea they'd make you feel such pain… such suffering…'

            'You caused me ultimate suffering,' replies Vash, his voice smooth and quiet, 'you took away my arm, you used me, hurt those around me, and you hurt me when you wanted to save me? Why?'

            'I was cruel to be kind. I thought you needed to be shown the way, I thought… I thought you would always love me, no matter what pain I caused you. I thought it was better that you feel torment at my hand than at the humans. I thought you'd come round, that you'd understand and so we could be together in Eden. I used you because I needed you, I thought once we were in Eden it would all get better, you'd understand.'

            'But you tried to kill me.'

            'Yes… when I realized you would never see things the way I do. I thought… I thought it was better you die at my hand; die honestly, than die at the hand of a human. I thought it was better that you have something, that you have paradise, than nothing at all. I thought that if I couldn't give you Eden, then I'd give you Heaven. I thought I was doing it for you.'

            'But you were doing it for yourself.'

            '… Yes, I think so. I've always been alone, Vash. You managed to find love with the humans but I… I've never had anyone except you. I was frightened of loosing you. Tired of being alone'

            'You're not alone, even without me. If you're willing to let them in then the humans can be your friends too, if you just give them a chance.'

            'I don't know,' he sighs, 'I still think they're dangerous, I still hate them for what they're doing to our people but… but maybe they  aren't all bad, maybe they could learn to accept us. I don't know if I can yet, but I think that perhaps… perhaps I was wrong.'

            'I see.'

            Silence takes over the small room, the two brothers sitting in still contemplation. At last Knives speaks, his voice dull and quiet.

            'Vash… I know there's nothing I can do to take it back. I don't think I can carry on like this… I've nothing… no reason to continue except… except…'

            'Yes?'

            'Many months ago you said… you said this wasn't about saving me. What is it about saving, then?'

            A small, empty smile crosses Vash's face, 'so egotistical, Knives. I suppose I lied a little, I guess I am trying to save you, but not just you. I want to save me, too. You made me kill someone, Knives, the least I owe his spirit is to look after you, perhaps I can redeem myself that way too.'

            'Legato…' Knives whispers, his voice seeming to carry unusually well in the room.

            Vash says nothing, he just nods, his hands twisting in his lap.

            'I suppose I've caused a lot of pain in my life, too much to ever mend.'

            'Don't say that, Knives. The ticket to the future is always blank, for us more than anyone. We're practically immortal, we can make to much difference in the world, do so much good. If you do that, maybe you can make things up to them, to those you killed, to me, to Legato…'

            'I'm not sure I have the strength. Besides, I doubt I could stomach going out amongst the humans spreading 'love and peace.' I'm willing to believe they're not all evil, but I hardly love them with your fervour.'

            'But you're accepting that you might be wrong, that there are more paths, more tickets to the future. That's a start. I didn't see that, once. I mean, I knew it was true, but I never applied it to myself. I thought love and peace was the only way but it isn't. I still think it's the best, it's still the path I walk, but I can see other people make their own paths too, they have their own tickets. So long as they don't interfere with other people's future, then they have a right to their own destiny, like I've a right to my own destiny. I never wanted to convert you Knives, I just wanted to show you that there are more ways, different paths. Do you understand?' 

            Knives cocks his head curiously, 'I think so,' he says, 'though it isn't exactly clear. It doesn't make any difference anyway; I've done so much… Vash… I have to know something.'

            There is a desperate earnestness in his voice, an intenseness that shows his sentiments; his emotions are close to the surface. 

            'Yes?' asks Vash, undoubtedly aware how fragile the situation is.

            'Vash do you… after all that's happened, all that I've done, tell me please do… do you still love me?'

            Vash turns away from him, looks towards the small window of his bedroom. The sunlight paints his skin golden, highlights his blond hair. His eyes are lost in reflection, his lips still with contemplation.

            'I love everyone,' he says at last, 'you know that, Knives.'

            'Vash…' Knives says, or rather tries to say though only air comes out of his gently open mouth, the soft sound of a heart breaking. He's heard the emptiness in Vash's words, understands the sentiment. The pleading in eyes conveys his message to Vash, no words or telepathy are needed. They are beyond that, these two broken brothers.

            'You took everything away from me,' says Vash at last, his voice is choked with sobs, gentle tears run down his pale cheeks, 'you took my family, my arm, my closest friends, you tried to take my soul from me, even my very life. I want to love you despite it all; I want to love you because you did it all because _you_ love _me_! But I don't think I can. I don't hate you, because if I hated you then I'd be as bad as you and everyone's death, Rem's, Wolfwood's, Legato's, would all be for nothing. I can't hate anyone, but I can't love you either. I'm not sure I can love any one single person any more, to be honest. I've worked so hard at loving everyone I… I think if I loved one person then everyone else would matter a little less and that way I'd learn to hate, I'd make mistakes. It's funny, I don't hate, and I don't love. I don't suppose I feel much of anything any more, not really. I'm sorry.'

            He turns to face Knives, tears drying on his face and he grins. Not an empty smile, it's a smile that reaches into his heart, yet it is empty anyway. It's the smile of love that's been spread so far it is shallow, almost meaningless.

            'I guess you did break me after all, Knives,' he says, 'just not in the way you thought you had.'

            Knives is silent for a moment, tears slowly drip down his face so he bows his head, he's still awkward with his grief.

            Then he raises his head and gives a harsh, bitter laugh, 'so that is it,' he says, 'its over, all these years and it's done. We've destroyed each other, we've gone too far. There's nothing left.'

            'Don't be stupid brother,' admonishes Vash, 'you heard what I said, the ticket to the future is always open. Eden's still out there, but now we're going to go there together! We can save each other, Knives; we can find the way… if you're willing.'

            Knives looks up at his brother, seeing him as he really is, seeing something old and new, broken and mended. Wise, foolish, happy, sad and above all… something beloved, even if he cannot return the feeling.

            'Yes,' he says at last taking Vash's hand, new tears streaming across his skin, tears of joy, 'yes, I'll walk the path with you. Whatever the path is, and however far it goes. I'll be with you.'

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Eeep, sorry for being so long again, still better late than never!

Reader's Reviews:

SanoGirl: Once again, I'm very happy the characterisation is sticking. At this point it's so hard to keep that about him. He might come off a bit mushy in this chapter, if so I'm sorry, but it's the way it worked out. Thanks for recommending this to your cousin, that is very nice of you! If you could get her to review that'd be cool! I love reviews they make me happy! Yay for CN! Living in Britain, I doubt I'll ever see it on the 'small screen,' as it were. Which is a shame, it seems we miss out on all the good programs. 

TheDreamsoftheDead: Wow… I transferred feelings… cool! I always thought I was pretty bad at that. GO ME! Shame about the bad luck, I do hope it changes. I'd go review your stories but, as I've never seen the programs, it'd be fairly pointless. I hope your inspiration returns to you, try walking or listening to some music. Anyway, see you around!

Magnet-Rose: Aw, I'm sorry you're feeling bad, I do hope the headache has gone by now (it should have, almost a week has gone past!) I'm glad this story helped, I hope  this chapter is as good!

ATO: Yay! That chapter was one of my faves too, because it is a major turning point (like this chapter,) and it kinda put across a lot of theories as to why Knives is as he is and stuff. See you later!

LeDiz: Heh, I'm not gonna be able to answer all your points here, not and still have room for a frickin' story, so I've sent you an E-mail.Anyway, thanks for reviewing. People, if you're into X-Men Evolution or Yu-Gi-Oh, check this girl out! She's one of the best! 

Angelstryke: Yeah, I loved that latest chapter, I'm only sorry the next one's gonna take a while to do. (Your next chapter, not mine.) Ah, another Biographical Legato fic, I must do one of those one day… he's an interesting character. Yeah, there's a bit more coming, but we're drawing to a conclusion now…

TeaRoses: It always seemed that Vash was, or appeared to be, Rem's favourite. Though whether this was true we'll never know. Oh, go on, write that fic… you know you want to! So happy I'm not ruining Knives. It's always a risk with these redemption type ficcies!

Communist Penguin: Thanks for the complement! I had a lot of competition with this fic, there's so many Knives redemption stories. But I'm glad this one actually worked out.

Sess-101: Thanks for the Keyboard info! And the two reviews were cool too! Glad to see you're keeping up.

Koneko212: What is it with me and making people cry? I swear I didn't set out to do that, honest! Nice to meet you anyway! And yeah, that's a nice way of looking at this, Knives finally coming alive… cool.

Zolac no Miko: Very true, I think Steve did have a large effect on Knives' life. That plus a load of other stuff which went on… I think we can see a bit of Knives from all the people. Knives has Rowen's scientific ability, Captain Joe's willingness to sacrifice, Mary's manipulation (see how she plays Steve and Rowen off against one another,) Some of Steve, (as we've already seen,) and finally a little bit of Rem. Because, if nothing else, Knives is an idealist gone wrong. I hope this part didn't come too late for you!

Aoi: That's an interesting take on the hair cut scene, I'm not sure I entirely agree with it, but you've certainly got a point… it was certainly a pivotal moment of Our Villain. I don't like that sort of typing either, apart from on phone texting or if you've got a good excuse, (not much time or a broken Keyboard, for example.) but don't' worry, there won't be any of that here!

Ron the future Weasel: Happy Birthday! Mmm… perhaps I should send you a birthday fic or something… I've got a drabble done… I could send you that if you wanted? Or maybe one of my other fics. Heh, if you want a fic, what kind of fic would you like? 

Anyway, I'm sorry you didn't seem the Pete/Steve connection, perhaps it was a little weak… who knows. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

Other News: I got myself a live journal! Look out for more Trigun rantings and perhaps some fics on it! It's in my profile!

NEXT TIME: Life with the twins finally starts to become… normal… have Vash and Knives found peace together at last? Or should they strive for something more? Whatever, things are about to take yet another twist. 


	28. Day 364

Day 364

            The next few days are a new lifetime. It is as if he has been born anew, yet with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

            At first things are awkward, dancing around subjects with his brother, long, uncomfortable silences, muttered apologies. Then there come the small arguments, pitiful, playful insults, tiny jibes and little tasks done for one another.

            At last, like a dam breaking, things shift into a more comfortable manner. They are brothers again, dysfunctional, squabbling brothers, but brothers none the less.

            Knives leaves the house a few times and goes into town, buying supplies and talking to the humans. He makes no friends immediately, he even makes a few enemies, but he returns with clean hands and clean conscience, sometimes he can even remember the names of the people he's talked to and does not feel overly repulsed by them. Occasionally he even wonders what else they do at night, if they have any family, if they will surmount the difficulties they face in their small, antlike lives.

            Two days after their long talk, Vash and Knives are invited to Pete's funeral, which they both attend.

            It is a strange experience, standing over the pitiful remains of such a man, surrounded by his relatives. Knives finds that he is not entirely changed, for he cannot weep for Pete though he feels a keen sadness in his soul. He does, however, set some flowers upon his grave, red geraniums of course, (Vash's choice,) and spends an hour or two in contemplation there. This is surely far more honour than he's ever given any other human.

            Now, from the porch he watches Vash play with the children of Angle's Rest, or rather watches as they attempt to beat him into a bloody pulp.

            He does not think he'll ever act like that, he has lost almost all his hatred and much of his pride, but he retains enough that he will not stoop quite that low. Still, their antics are amusing to watch and he will admit some fascination with the children, who always seem to hold both the best and worse qualities of their kind.

            Something soft brushes against Knives' leg, he looks down into the two, large, green eyes of a cat, a midnight black cat. He allows himself a small smile and gently pets the animal. He's always been fond of cats, their innocent playfulness as kittens, and their graceful predatorily as fully grown animals. He finds irony in the way they live, being petted and coddled by humans in return for food. In truth, Knives thinks, it is more like the cats own the humans than the other way round.

            The shadows lengthen upon the sand as the twin suns complete their fall towards the horizon, the dying crimson light gleams against the transparent chamber of the Plant.

            Vash hasn't been working there lately, deciding instead to spend more time with Knives. Knives himself has a feeling there's more too it than that, but he presses no questions, yet.

            'Vash!' he calls out, 'are you coming in for dinner?'

            'Sure!' replies Vash, wishing the children a good nights sleep before returning to Knives and the house.

            Dinner is a simple affair that night, with Knives doing the cooking. Vash is unusually quiet; a change from recent times when he'd made a point to playfully criticize Knives' rather dull culinary skills. This night, however, he eats up the rice and stew quietly, if swiftly, before waiting for Knives to finish his dinner at a more sedate pace.

            For afters it is, of course, coffee and doughnuts, both supplied by Vash.

            Knives has one, large cup of coffee and two doughnuts, Vash has a rather smaller cup and four doughnuts. It is, for the people involved, a very fair distribution.

            'Knives?' says Vash after a bit, finishing off his last doughnut.

            'Mmm?' mutters Knives, sipping his coffee.

            'Are you glad you came here? Glad of all of this?'

            Knives stops to consider, another deep silence takes hold of the room, as if a cloud has passed by the semi superficial bubble of homeliness they've created.

            'I don't know,' he says eventually, 'I can't be glad of it, it was too painful but… but I think it was better it turned out like this.'

            Vash grins inanely and perhaps the love in it is a little deeper than before.

            'Not that you should take that as an excuse to shoot me full of bullets every time we disagree,' added Knives half playfully, his voice ringing with quiet amusement. He yawns and stretches, for some reason he feels very tired.

            He finishes off his coffee and says as much to Vash.

            'You should get an early night,' his brother suggests.

            'But I… I don't… don't wanna…' mutters Knives, yawning between almost every word. His eyelids are heavy, as are his limbs. He slumps at his chair, his eyelids drooping pathetically.

            Some part of his brain is protesting, telling him he's acting like a little kid, but the rest of his mind is far to tired to care.

            'I'll get you to bed,' says Vash, helping Knives up and leading him to his bedroom.

            Through his sleep fogged mind Knives registers Vash's attempts to set him to bed. Again some part screams that something isn't right, that he shouldn't be so tired that he can't even get undressed by himself. Again he ignores it, or attempts to.

            The worry bothers him until, even in bed and in his sleep cloths, he cannot close his eyes. His brother is looking at him strangely, intensely, as if something important is about to happen, or has happened.

            'Vash?' mutters Knives, for some reason feeling dimly afraid, 'are you alright?'

            'I'm just fine.'

            He hears something, a song. Vash is singing that tune Rem always used to hum to them. What was it called? Ah yes, Sound Life.

            Again he has a niggling feeling of worry, of premonition, but Vash's gentle singing seems to drown it out until the song ends and he hears his brother move towards the door.

            'Vash?' whispers Knives again sleepily, his lips barely strong enough to form the words.

            'Don't worry Knives,' says Vash gently, 'I'm here if you need me, I'm always here.'

            Knives falls silent at that, and rolls over onto his back. He always sleeps upon his back unlike Vash who, for some reason, prefers to rest upon his stomach. It's another strange quirk which has always set the twins apart.

            He hears the door softly closing and knows that, once more, his is alone in the room.

            It does not bother him much anymore though; he's only ever as alone as he wants to be, after all.

            The room is noiseless now; the only thing echoing in his ears is the Rem's song.

            It is a silly thing, he thinks dully, sleep almost upon him now, sentimental, fake, almost patronising in its way. A children's song.

            Yet it does have its charm, its gentle innocence, it is a comforting thing to keep in the head, if not a good thing to live by.

            Perhaps it isn't quite so bad after all.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sorry so little happened in that chapter, it's more of a filler than anything to tell the truth. But things are going to be better in the next one. The next chapter with is the penultimate chapter in this fic! Yep, it's just that one and an epilogue to go. So keep up reviewing people!

Readers Replies:

SanoGirl: Au Contraire, I don't think that this picture of Vash is neccesaraly true, it's merely the way I view him. Though I thank you for the kind words, really Vash is such a complex character he can be viewed in many ways, it's one of his charms. I'm glad you didn't find it too mushy too,

ATO: Don't worry, there'll be no Mary sues here nor any twincest. Well, not like that anyway. Thanks for befriending me on my live journal! Keep your eye out for more stories on it. Oh, and as to your comments on 'chess,' don't worry, I'm going to be posting Trigun stories for a long time yet!

Ron the Future Weasel: Thanks again for reading my story, I hope you see the connection though maybe it was a bit slender… I never pretended to be perfect, far, far from it! But thanks for your continued support :hugs:

Communist Penguin: It isn't quite the end… though it is nearly. I just want to wrap up a couple more issues, make a few things clearer, then it'll be the end. I hope you can bare with me for just a little longer…

TeaRoses: I'm glad someone shares the Vash view. I think it was either Lady Shadowcat or ATO that said that one of the most compelling Trigun pairings is Vash/no one. Because, honestly, with the exception of Rem, I doubt he's capable of loving anyone any more. If he loves he has to make choices and… well, like I said before. It's why I always feel a little uncomfortable writing Vash/Meryl, because in the long term I don't think it could work, sadly enough… I do hope you write that fic, you're a pretty good author! I really need to read more of your work. And don't be intimidated, if for no other reason than this saying: From little acorns, mighty oaks grow!

Oh yes, and I feel touched that my story has affected you so much that you!

Angelstryke: Yes, Vash did deserve a bit of an explanation, didn't he! Heh, again with the crying! I swear, the next fic I post on FFN is gonna have to be a humour fic! Just to cheer you guys up! And no, I'm not trying to kill you, because then you wouldn't finish your fic! I hope that's going OK, by the way, best of luck.

The old fart: I'm so happy you're reading and enjoying this fic, I know I like yours! Oy, guys, check out this dude's drabbles and stuff, they rock!

Magnet-Rose: Your Nova fic is pretty darn good, and the character (who's name I've forgotten, sorry!) isn't too Mary sueish, which is good. Wolfwood's return bothers me a little, but I'm picky. The over all plot has some merit though, and I'm eagerly anticipating how it's going to turn out. But yeah, thanks for the review!

Aoi: Very true. I think you're right, though in some ways Vash is too selfless, which is why I think he would have troubles loving Knives, or anyone else save Rem, totally and completely. They either a) betray him. b) die, or c) force him to make choices between them and a life or something. Not good. I think Vash and Knives do love each other, always will, they can't help it. But the question is do they allow other things to overrule that love? Knives defiantly will, but Vash?...

Zolac no Miko: Yep, pivotal time alright! I'm happy the emotion thing happened again. And yes, with that one sentence you've just summed up a lot of the ending of this story, but you'll pick that up as you finish it… hehehehe!  

LeDiz: Thanks again for the praise… I'm not entirely sure what to say… but I think you liked it, right? Heh, it's always hard to tell whether I'm being true to the characters or just going off on my own somewhere… but from what people are saying I'm doing OK. And yeah, my Live Journal's fun, my life is fun, with tests and revision and coursework and money problems and…. (just kidding!) Yeah, life's been peaceful now. Please, LeDiz, feel free to pop onto my journal at any time, you're always welcome!

Rar: Ooo, constructive criticism, cool! Thanks! Sorry about the spelling, it is a problem I have and, without a beta reader, I've no real way of fixing it. But thanks anyway. Yes, Knives is very mushy in that chapter, it's one of the things I don't like about it. But to be fair he's just been through a VERY traumatic time, so he's aloud a bit of emotion I think. But don't worry, he'll harden up later and return to his old ways somewhat. I'll check out that fic too, it sounds cool!

Sess101: I'm happy this chapter worked for you! Heh, does this mean I might be on your favourites list soon? I wonder how many favourites list this story is on? Mmm…

But yeah, please keep reviewing!

Wow, that was a lot of reviews… and I'm over the 200 mark! GO ME! Sorry if my replies were so short. The next chapter will be better I promise!

NEXT TIME: The penultimate chapter! Knives awakes to find that things are… different. Now he must face an entirely new world… but wait… is it the world that is new… or him?


	29. Day 365

Day 365

            He knows something is wrong as soon as he opens his eyes.

            It's late morning to mid afternoon, the sunlight streams bright and hazy though the small window of his room, offending his eyes somewhat. His mouth feels clogged and fury, his head aches slightly. He's never been hung over, but he imagines this is a little of what it must feel like.

            These feelings, however, are not what are concerning him.

            The house is quiet, too quiet. He can't hear the familiar shuffling of his brother moving around, he can't hear him at all. Normally this would suggest he's simply left the house for a bit, but there is more to it than that.

            Something is defiantly wrong.

            He rubs his eyes and groans, trying to chase away the last of his sleep, then manages to get up. He stumbles around until he finds his cloths and after dressing hastily he moves to the main room, hoping for some explanation.

            He senses it as soon as he enters the room, the silence speaks volumes, there's an explanation in every bare space, the consolidation in the sound of the dust falling.

            Vash has gone.

            There are empty spaces upon the work top, when he checks his room he finds Vash's cloths are missing, as are other important objects of his.

            Vash has left him.

            Tentatively, he reaches out with his mind, seeking his brother… yes, yes he feels him. He's alive and not distressed, but he is far away and does not seek further contact with Knives' questing mind.

            Vash has abandoned him.

            He slumps onto one of the chairs, his hands dangling between his knees. Why? Why? Things were finally going so well, they were finally brothers once again, why did Vash leave?

            At that moment something catches Knives' eyes, and he silently curses himself for being such an unobservational idiot.

            For upon the table there is a small peace of paper folded off and with the word '_Knives_' written upon it in Vash's familiar, bold handwriting. Next to it is a large package wrapped in brown paper, also with his name on it.

            Carefully, Knives reaches out for the letter first. He carefully unfolds it, studying the layout. His brother has made an effort to shrink his writing so it will all fit upon the page; it's disjointed and a little childish, but well spelt and grammatically correct for the most part. In the corner there's a little doodle, of the type Vash is so fond of. Small, simple, vaguely humorous if that's the kind of thing that tickles your fancy.

            Taking a deep breath, preparing himself, Knives starts to read is brother's letter.

_            Dear Knives._

_            Hi!_

_            Or should it be bye? I'm not too good at writing extended letters so you're going to have to hold with me. I guess I should apologise first, about the coffee. Yes, I did drug it, I didn't want to risk waking you up as I packed and besides, I wanted a good head start._

_            Now don't go getting angry, even if it's what you do best, I'm not abandoning you or anything, I'm setting you free._

_            See, do you know what day it is today Knives?_

_            June the 21st,(1)  our birthday._

_            So I figured, after over 100 years, it's time I got you a birthday present, right?       Well, here it is. Your freedom. _

_            When we had that talk, all that time ago, about finding our own paths? I meant it, that's all I want Knives, to give you a second chance, to make you go your own way, choose you own path not have it shaped for you by the past. _

_            But you can't do that if I'm by your side all the time. Remember when we were together all those years ago? Wandering across the desert? Well, it'd be just like that, only instead of me following you, it'd be the other way round. I might try to lead you to my __Eden__, but I don't know that you'd want that._

_            You've got to find your own route, Knives, your own way. You've got to do it on your own, for a while at least._

_            I know this might mean you don't go where I want you to go. Hell, for all I know you might just restart the Gung Ho Guns again; you might realize that your old ways are the best. Well, if you do then that's your decision and I'll do all I can to stop you. Even if it means killing you._

_            I really hope you don't decide that, but I've got to have faith that you can choose your own path._

_            But it's my birthday too, you know, and I want a present as well. I did think of asking you for my own doughnut factory, but I decided against it._

_            Here's what I want, I want a promise._

_            I want you to promise that you won't hurt anyone unnecessarily and that you won't kill anyone, that for this year you'll try to live in love and peace. You'll give the humans a chance._

_            Then, when this year is over, return here and I'll be waiting for you, and then we'll talk. That's all I ask, no killing for at least this year. _

_            Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself, as you well know. Please don't follow me, either; this is about your journey, not mine. I'll be around if you really need me, but in the mean time I'm going to check some people up. Sort out some stuff. _

_            You look after yourself and other people too, if you can. _

_            Happy Birthday._

_            Love Vash (The Stampede.)_

_            Love and Peace!_

_            PS: The package is also for you, I had it made specially. I don't really know if you want it, I'll understand if you leave it behind and all. But I hope you like it anyway._

            Knives slowly sets the letter down, absorbing the words. Then, when he felt he understands, he reads it again to make sure. He looks at the doodle in the corner closely and smiles to himself. It depicts a crude, cartoon Vash holding something that looked like a train ticket which is, unsurprisingly, blank.

            He puts the letter down at last and turns his attention towards the large, brown paper package.

            It is heavy in his hands, but also soft, squishy. He opens it carefully, resisting the urge to simply rip it open. As the leaves of brown paper are parted, they reveal a pale, blue, leather fabric, covered in belts and buttons and hoops.

            He takes it completely out of its packaging, straightening it out and standing up, so he might look at it completely.

            It's a coat, so similar it might as well be the same as Vash's own garment, except it is a pale blue rather than red and has two, full sized sleeves.

            He admires it for a moment, feeling its weight in his hands.

            After a little thought he puts it on, seeing how it feels upon his shoulders, wondering what he looks like.

            He moves into Vash's room and opens the door to the wardrobe, which has a large, full mirror on one of the doors, he examines himself critically.

            The coat is heavy and rather hot, but there are numerous pocket within it in which various items may be hidden. It's built with a lot of manoeuvrability, too, despite the long, trailing tails Knives feels fairly secure he'll not have to worry about being tripped over by them, or feeling overly confined. And undoubtedly the thick hide of the coat might protect him against some abrasions and so forth.

            The blue seems a little strange, but it shows off the colour of his eyes nicely. Its form and style is a little odd, it tends to make him look a lot thinner and scrawnier than he actually is. It doesn't show off the breadth of his shoulders, something Knives has always liked to display.

            Still, that will serve to make him seem unthreatening; it might even make him look a little taller.

            Straightening the coat, Knives nods to himself in the mirror, he comes to a decision.

            Yes, I promise, Vash he thinks, sending out the message telepathically.

            He receives no reply but does feel a slight echo of satisfaction, of joy. He knows Vash has heard.

            Sighing to himself he looks out of the window, out into the bright sunlight, out into the dusty town and sandy dunes, out into the new day.

(1) This would, coincidentally, not only make their birth date the same as the day of July's destruction, but it would make both Vash and Knives Gemini.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Note: We're reaching the end now folks, sorry this took so long to get out. But my uni-tests are finally over and things are going at a slower pace now, so hopefully you won't have such a long wait for the next chapter.

Reader's Replies:

Magnet Rose: All I can possibly say to this is :D.

SanoGirl: Thanks, this was very much a filler and atmospheric chapter. I'm sorry this is ending soon, but there's still one more chapter to go! I hope this one explained a bit more and tied a few more loose ends.

Aoi: Heh, was your 'tired' question answered? Yes, I do love cats! I think Knives is very much like a cat (and Vash is a bit like a Dog, bless him.) Even though I like cats, I've got to admit they are a little evil at times. But that's sweet, don't you think?

Communist Penguin: Well, it was only a filler, necessary but I agree, not one of my best. I hope the ending (so far) is satisfactory. There's still the epilogue to go though, so don't sign off just yet!

ATO: Ooooo! A long review! Well, if I were you I'd keep it until the next chapter and the epilogue, (unless you want to post two long reviews, which is also good!) Anyway, I've loved your continued support, and I hope your new computer works well and all. I can't help but feel a little sorry for you, I don't know where I'd be without my computer! I need it so much to work from! But yes, I look forward to hearing from you! (BTW, loved the drabbles… I must write a review on them…)

Ron the Future Weasel: Hi! You hit the nail on the head! Well done, have a cookie! Do you like the ending so far? I'm trying to stay within the Trigun ethos as it were. I'm sure some people will hate this ending though… ah well… see you at the epilogue!

Zolac no Miko: Come on, I can't write a 20 chapters without Kuroneko-Sama showing up somewhere! He'll make another quick appearance before this ends too! Again, well guessed, you weren't hallucinating! I wanted to make it obvious, besides writing a sleepy Knives is cute, and even Knives is aloud to be cute occasionally.

Sess101: Yay! Another favourites list! Ooh, scary… you're watching me! AUGH! I'm sorry I've been taking so long to post chapters, I hope it doesn't bother too much. I've been living rather a hectic life-style at the moment. Oh yes, and I am evil to my readers… but that's half the fun! I hope you found an explanation here.

LeDiz: Bummer about the review. And YES! A working keyboard, no offence meant but that makes reading your reviews a lot easier. Oh yeah, writing Knives as cute was fun, it was a little OOC perhaps, but I think everyone is aloud to be cute every now and then. This was Knives cute moment. (That and when he was a little kid, he had some cuteness then too!) Well done on picking up the foreshadowing, what do you think of this chapter? I do think Vash is a little evil… or rather I don't hold the belief that he is entirely good. Mostly, certainly, but he is a little tricky, if you know what I mean. No one that's lead his kind of life can be entirely and utterly pure, though he comes darn close. I'm looking forward to your next review!

NEXT TIME: The Epilogue, where Knives finally gets the answer to the following question…

How far is Eden?


	30. Epilogue

Epilogue

A few days later 

            The desert stretches out in front of him, behind him, around him. A blazing carpet of sand and rocks and wind and dust. Heat soaks the air, the suns above showing no mercy, no compassion; they paint the world in ruddy red and sickly yellow.

            Through this scene he walks, a single figure dressed in pale blue, sweating a little in the oppressive heat. Across his back is strung a pack of all his belongings, not all that much but enough to ensure his survival.

            A light breeze whisks across the desert, he eagerly turns his head, trying to catch the cooling wind upon his face.

            He is beginning to wish he'd taken the bus, but it was not due back into town for another week, so he decided to leave Angel's Rest on foot.

            He could have stayed; of course, Vash had paid the rent on the house for a month and had left him more than enough money to live upon. He could have obtained a job, after all, remained in the house…

            Yet that wasn't what Vash wanted, nor what he wanted, really. He needed to grow, to understand, to be free again. So he finished his business in the town and left the day after their birthday.

            Now he trod across the desert, a single set of footsteps trailing across the sand, heading towards the future.

            Whatever that held.

            Still, under the heat of the suns he really was wishing he'd had the common sense to wait for a bus. Vash must be having a negative affect upon him too.

            He spies something in the distance, using a hand to shield his eyes he looks towards the horizon. A dust cloud is forming, like one made by a large vehicle.

            He stands still, watching the vehicle come towards him. As it approaches he sees that it is a large truck, of the type supplier's use. Probably on the way back from delivering goods to one of the outlying towns, perhaps even Angel's Rest.

            Knives comes to a decision and puts one hand out, his thumb extended in the age old signal of the hitch hiker.

            The truck comes closer and bringing up a miniature sandstorm, breaks just by Knives.

            The driver leans out of the window; he is a bulky dark haired man with a scar down his left eye and a tattoo of a black cat upon one bare, muscled arm.

            'Yeah?' he grunts, 'you wanna lift kid?'

            His manner indicates one of little intelligence, a short temper, but some honesty, Knives find himself a little annoyed by the his rude briskness, but pushes the irritation aside.

            'Yes please,' he says, trying to be as polite as possible. It's rather difficult.

            'Hop on then,' instructs the driver, indicating the empty carriage behind him.

            Knives does as instructed, slinging his bag inside the back cart before springing in himself.

            'The name's Jason Burton,' says the driver, 'what's yours?'

            'Knives,' Knives replies truthfully, settling himself down.

            'Knives…?'

            It's obvious that the driver wishes for more information, a second name.            Knives replies with the first thing that comes to mind.

            'Bluesummers.'

            'Knives Bluesummers,' repeats the driver, incredulous, 'crazy name. Still, each to their own I suppose. Where are you headed?'

            'I… I don't really know.'

            'Well, I'm off back to January City. That good with you?'

            'That's fine,' says Knives and coughs as Jason restarts the engines, kicking up more sand and dust.

            After things have settled down a little, Knives spends a moment wondering what possessed him to use that second name, of all the choices available.

            He supposes it's as good a tribute as any to Legato, after taking so much from the man he should do this for him at least, bare his name. It's not much but, perhaps, it will serve as a reminder. Yes… Knives Bluesummers… it has a certain ring, it is fitting.

            The truck rolls across a large rock, jerking Knives, he growls in irritation, with the heat and the dust and the movement he really is looking forward to getting back into town, even if it means being constantly surrounded by humans.

            He turns round and stands up, about to ask the driver exactly when they're going to get to January City.

            Something stops him however, a sense of déjà vu, a familiar feeling.

            He remembers.

            He knows!

            A grin spreads across his features, and from his heart he laughs, a real, deep, true laugh without any cynicism or sadness, a laugh of pure joy.

            After a century of looking, he finally has inkling as to what _the answer_ is.

            He stands up and looks out into the desert, feeling the wind tear across his face, the blue tails of his coat lashing in the breezes. His arms open to take in the horizon, the distance, the entire world. A world of infinite possibilities, a world that holds Eden within it, somewhere.

            How far is Eden?

            Is it a million light-years distant?

            Is it a lifetime's journey?

            Is it the work of three centuries?

            Is it 133 years away?

            Or is it just 1.5 centimetres?

            Is it simply one year spent in a room?

            How far away is Eden?

            It's as far away as you want it to be.

            It just depends what route you take.

            The Beginning…

………………………………………………………………………………………

Authors Notes: Well, that's it! The end of How Far is Eden! The longest single fanfiction I've ever written! I hope you liked it, because I'm sure chuffed with it.

If you DID like it, then I ask only one thing. Please, please, please leave one last review for me, telling me what you thought of the story. If I get enough of these and of reasonable quality I will devote one, last chapter to answering them.

This is NOT going to be my last venture into Trigun Fanfiction; I do have many other pieces up and running. Some of them are visible from my LJ, (accessible via the link in my profile.) However, I might not post any in FFN for a little bit, due to some small computer problems, But worry ye not! I will be back in early July, posting stuff here! I hope you like that too.

If you do like this, try my other three, tiny, Trigun fanfictions and, perhaps, my X-evo stuff too. There's some good stuff there.

Thanks for sticking around this long, I hope to hear from you in replies and I hope you liked How Far is Eden!

Reader's Replies:

Ron the Future Weasel: I'm sorry the B-Day's wrong, but it's a bit late to change it now. Besides, this day is more fitting, more ironic. And besides, Vash and Knives are so Gemini… heh! And you can say 'Until Next Chapter' because next chapter will be reader's replies chapter… and maybe something else too

Sessgirl1: Ah well, all good things come to an end. Good luck with your fic and I'm glad you've enjoyed this one!

Zolac no Miko: I'm happy you liked the chapter, and the coat… I was a bit worried it was too cheesy…

Angelstryke: YAY! Hello she of the awesome Fanfic! I wonder if Vash is following the Insurance girls! Heh, and you just know that, deep down, Vash yeans to own his own doughnut factory, only they'd never make any money what with our beloved gunman eating all their produce! Don't worry, like I said in my notes, more fanfic is on it's way! Check out my LJ for some of it, or wait a couple of weeks, it'll be out soon I promise! And keep working on that new fic of yours, if it's anything like the last one it'll be good!

Kitsu: Talk about coming in late! Heh, well, welcome anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the ride. I do have an idea for a sequel, and I might write it one day, but we'll see. Whatever I do it won't be around for a while yet. Thanks for your comments anyway!

Sailor Lillith-Chan: Yay! I'm so glad you liked this! Really, I am! :dances: Heh, as others, (like LeDiz,) have said, Vash isn't perfect. He comes damn close at times but he does have a little streak of evil in him. He has to, to survive. Knives has taught him that, I think. I'm sorry the epilogue wasn't what you'd hoped; my sequel will be a bit further down the road, if I write it. I guess I wanted to leave the story open, for the readers to decide what happens next. Like in the series, Knives is throwing aside his metaphorical gun and giving new things a go. It might be the wrong place to leave it in some ways, but it feels right to me.

Aoi: Well done for spotting the year thing, that was a conscious decision on my part. And yeah, like I said to Ron the Future Weasel, Gemini is just more fitting. Mmm… no more tight suits… but that means we can't see his… NOOO! I've made a terrible mistake! AUGH!

Communist Penguin: I hope this epilogue lives up to your expectations. Heh, this will have a few loose ends, heck, it has one huge loose end, but that's how I like it, in some ways…

ATO: Ooh, will I be getting a long review soon then? I'm very excited! Good luck with your computer and all, I hope it's in working order soon. I'll send you that story as soon as I've finished it, as the one who inspired me you should get first read.

LeDiz: You must KNOW that I never find your reviews pointless or annoying, I love reviews in whatever form! I can only prey you don't mind mine too much! The Kitten was evil? I never thought of that… ooh, evil kittens… cool! I think the best characters are those that carry both good and evil within them, that's why we love them so much. Knives would just be another maniac if he didn't have such very good, such very pure intentions. It's just his means kinda… ruin it, you know? And Vash… well, anyone who claims that Vash is all sweetness and light should watch Diablo again. Not that I'm saying he isn't good, he's damn good. He's nice and kind and everything, but he is a tad bit evil, he's a little bit violent and he does have his weaknesses, we wouldn't love him so much if he didn't.

Don't worry, I don't think he'll turn out like Vash… or I hope not any way. To me this is Knives going out to learn about… stuff. He might learn that Vash is right, or he might come across some slum town, get mugged, and realize that; yes, all humans are indeed evil and should be wiped out. Knives… remains Knives. He's just starting out again, that's all the coat represents.

See ya later!

TeaRoses: Oh don't worry, I'll write more! You just stop me, hehehe!

Jiana: Thanks for the kind words, that last sentence really touched me. I do hope it is remembered like that, I really do! The insurance girls… yes, I really should have put more in about them. I honestly think there were around, outside the house, until at least their first and only appearance in this fic, it's just they never visited. However, I think they left after Knives was up and about. They are undoubtedly the ones Vash is going to 'check out,' and so forth. Again, I would have liked to include them more but there were three main reasons why I didn't…

a) This is from Knives POV mainly, Vash wouldn't want to endanger his friends, so he wouldn't want to introduce his brother to the girls unless absolutely necessary. Thus there's little opportunity for interaction.

b) If I put them in this then it would immediately risk the title of 'romance,' and I didn't want to do another one of those. They're great and all, but I wanted to do something different.

c) I'll be honest, I'm not very good at writing the girls, I just… didn't feel like including them. The above two statements were what drove the decision, of course, but this fact helped me make the choice. Sorry!

Once more, thanks to you all for reading. Fare well… for now!

NEXT TIME: Any more Readers Replies.


	31. Replies

Review Replies Chapter. AKA, Epiloge of an Epiloge!

Alright, because Review Replies Chapters aren't technically aloud, I'm gonna keep this short. I hope the people at FFN will forgive me anyway, they should considering this is a minor rules infringement and lots worse goes on, just look at your average Mary Sue fic! I'm not going to reply to you individually this time because it would take too much words space, (I feel like I'm pushing my luck already,) and, besides, I can probably answer any questions in here. If you want a more personal reply, drop me a line and I'll see what I can do…

Firstly, thanks for reading and reviewing this fic. Thanks you very, very, very much! This has been my longest fiction ever and it's wonderful to see it's been so well received. I'm truly touched by your words, it's given me confidence as a person and as a writer and it's most probably more than I deserve. Thanks people, it's you guys who keep me going!

Secondly, some general points I'd like to answer:

1: My Trigun Fanfiction.

This is NOT the only Trigun fic I've written, there's some more, very short stuff posted on FFN, if you care to look it up. Also, I have MANY unpublished works lounging about on my computer, as soon as I get the time I'll start bringing those out. So don't worry guys, I'm gonna be back to please/torment you with more of my writing soon! Keep your eyes skinned! (though be warned, some of it might be posted in the R section to be safe, so be sure to check that out every now and then, if you don't already.)

2: Contacting me and my Live Journal: The title says it all, if you want to talk to me, either drop me an E-mail or go visit my LJ, it's available via my profile page, just check out the 'web site' part. Be sure to pay a visit because, apart from anything, it has some as yet unpublished Trigun fic of mine on it. Plus I'll probably write about my fanfic works in general there, so if you want the latest news, pay a visit!

3: The Sequel? Well… will here be a sequel to How Far is Eden?

YES!

Sorta… it won't be quite like How Far is Eden though. I've written the first chapter already, and it's going to be in a more conventional view point, (i.e. third person past,). It WONT just be about Knives exploration of Gunsmoke and it's also going to have a different tone, a little less philosophy, a bit more humour/action/adventure/romance. However, it will still delve into character development, there will be NO Mary Sues and it will feature the Insurance girls, as well as delving into the past of both Vash and Knives! So, despite being a little different, it should hopefully live up to it's predecessor! Keep your eyes peeled folks… though, to be honest, I probably won't be posting it for another month AT LEAST! So you're gonna have to put up with my other Trigun fics 'till then.

BTW, the working title for it is… Eden's Children.

Last but not least I'd like to give special mentions to some of my favourite reviewers. AnonymousTrigunOtaku, Ron the Future Weasel, Aoi, Silver arm, Angelstryke, Magnet Rose, LeDiz, The Dreams of the Dead, Communist Penguin, Zolac no Miko, Tea Roses, Magnet Rose, and everyone else who kept with me in this fic. I hope I'll see you all again in my future works.

Until then…

Love and Peace!


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